


Somebody Should've Had Your Back

by spinosaur



Series: Somebody Should've Had Your Back [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Autistic Peter Parker, Avengers Family, Bruce Banner Is a Good Bro, Gen, Homeless Peter Parker, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent Tony Stark, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker has PTSD, Peter Parker has the Venom Symbiote, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Peter Parker is a Mess, Pre-T Peter Park, Suicide Attempt, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark has PTSD, Trans Peter Parker, Whump, brief mentioned violence against trans people, everyone eventually becomes peter's parent ok, i made this an accidental slow burn i guess, infinity war and endgame doesnt happen cause fuck that, is that the right tag to put on here?, no beta we die like men, the tony stark parent thing happens eventually i SWEAR
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-18 12:28:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 56,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21710764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spinosaur/pseuds/spinosaur
Summary: !FIC NO LONGER BEING UPDATED!!POSSIBLY BE REWRITTEN!Peter Parker has been living on the streets for what feels like practically his entire life now. He was never bitten by a radioactive spider, and has been surviving the streets through his learned skills alone. He's an annoying brat that has a smart mouth and constantly gets into trouble for stealing. His favorite hobby is ignoring his emotions!Coyote is a confused symbiote that recently fell to earth, unable to recall his life before now. He found himself captured and bounced between labs, before falling into Tony Stark's hands. He manages to escape and find Peter, feeling a strange bond he doesn't understand. He barely knows himself, but he does know he would stop at nothing to keep this boy safe.Heed the warnings in the tags!This fic handles some dark stuff. It's sort of a vent and just my own AU I really love and trying to do something with!All of the relationships listed take place in the background for the most part, this fics main focus is PeterFic title taken from song "Hurt" by Oliver Tree
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Thor, Pepper Potts/Natasha Romanov, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark/Stephen Strange, Peter Parker & Avengers Team, Peter Parker & Original Male Character(s), Pietro Maximoff & Wanda Maximoff & Vision, Wanda Maximoff & Peter Parker
Series: Somebody Should've Had Your Back [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1569196
Comments: 83
Kudos: 309





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> the first chapter will be short, and i'm unsure if this will be a continuous plot or more like sorta-one-shots (cause i suck at writing. i'm just a baby boy)
> 
> i'm absolutely in love with this au i came up with myself, so i do want to try writing it out best i can :)  
> i hope you enjoy!
> 
> (in the future i may draw out how they look and link it here. i really want to but rn im busy lol)

The large, white room that surrounded him was scattered with the occasional person. There was two people on the other side of the class wall that separated them. They wore pale, bright coats, holding clipboards as they muttered between them, watching him carefully through narrowed eyes. Behind them there was a few others, sitting at desks, carefully watching screens.

How long has he been here? He had no idea.

Every day was practically the same, surrounded by bright lights and curious figures at all hours.

But there was one day, one day it was different.

He was removed from his small, glass container by one of the figures, and he immediately took his opportunity they so generously given him. He attached himself to the human, crawling up their arm as they helplessly clawed right through his goopy form in attempt to remove him, and entered right through their mouth as they let out a cry. Almost immediately he took over, the former shape of the person unrecognizable as his true form manifested. What stood before them was a gigantic, four-legged, black creature.

The transparent walls that stood around him, trapping him in, were barely an obstacle as he smashed right through. Screams erupted, the rest of the humans scattering like ants. He paid them no attention, clambering through the lab to reach the other side. The whole opposite wall was more of the transparent material, but this time it was much harder to break. Staring right through it, it looked as if he was miles above the earth. Beneath him was structures that reached into the sky like the one that held him in, the ground between them illuminated in the cover of night.

The chaos around him continued as he slammed into the glass. An alarm was now blaring, and in the distance there was people barking, drawing closer with thundering footsteps.

It took a few tries, ramming his entire body weight into the wall before it finally collapsed, and suddenly he was plummeting.

The sudden contact with the earth beneath him was barely a hindrance, his massive body effortlessly taking the force of impact as if it was nothing. He now stood at the entrance of the tower. It was surrounded by large, armored trucks, and a crowd of people crouching behind them, holding something in their hands he didn't quiet understand. Before he could react, they opened fire at him, bullets ripping through his form as he let out a ear-splitting screech. Pushing himself off the ground, he glided over their heads, leaping right into the middle of street.

There was screeching of tires, continuous honking, screams erupting from the passengers as they came to a sudden halt. But as soon as he landed, he was off again, the noise quickly fading behind him as his legs carried him through his unfamiliar surroundings.

More screeching of tires were starting to draw closer and closer. With a glance behind him, he saw it was another of the large vehicles he had seen in front of the building. They were chasing him.

Abruptly, he took a sharp turn from the street into an unlit alley. Another leap, and he found himself effortlessly standing atop the short building. He continued forward, racing across the rooftops now, but still the chase continued. There was a different sound. It cut through the sky as it dangerously grew closer. What _was_ that thing? It was flying right for him.

He dropped back onto the cold cement of the street, struggling to break free from their sight. The tower behind him that held him captive was growing farther away, his feet carrying him so far in a matter of minutes. In front of him, he continued bolting through the streets, running right through cars that all had the same squealing response. It was a miracle he didn't cause a massive car wreck yet.

The noise of his followers was growing quieter, if only slightly.

He now found himself standing at the edge of the road, right before a cliff as it peered off into the endless ocean below. He had ran so far, he reached the sea.

Without a second thought, he leaped, and instead of crashing into the waves, his feet dug into the coarse sand. Where would he go now?

Eyes darting, he spotted something massive sticking out from the side of the earth, and darted towards it. It was a tunnel, shaped into a perfect circle, facing the water. Metal bars closed him from entering, but the door was thankfully left unlocked. Smashing his way through as the door swung open, he escaped into the darkness of the sewer.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING FOR TALK/MENTION OF VIOLENCE AGAINST TRANS PEOPLE!! Stay safe!!

  
Peter's legs swung off the edge of the roof, his head bopping along to the music flooding through his earphones. His phone had no service, but with all the free internet around he practically didn't need it. He was lucky to even have a phone, the one thing he didn't illegally obtain. It was given to him by his parents before-

He shook it off, taking another bite of his definitely-illegally-obtained honeybun he held in his hand. He savored it, it was most likely going to be the last and only meal for the rest of the days, maybe even a few days. It was the last of the meager food stash he kept in his backpack from his few successful shoplifting attempts. Peter was probably a wanted criminal by now, and most, if not all, shopkeepers by now knew his face, and knew it meant trouble. It's not like he'd get caught, though, he was so good at running. And cops? They were useless. They had betters problems anyway, it was kinda pathetic for them to focus on a homeless, hungry boy like him that stole just so he could have something to eat. Some real "justice" that was there.

It was about mid-day, the sky above heavily clouded, but the sun dared to peak through in-between them. The city was loud and bustling, per usual. A real typical day in Queens.

He sighed, not feeling up to finishing the last few bites of his food, crumpling the wrapper up around it as he shoved it back into his bag. He took out his phone, pressing pause of his moving and removing his headphones as he placed it back into his pockets. Scrambling away from the edge and back on his feet, he slung his bag across his shoulder, and dropped down from the side into the fire escape and climbed his way down. Exiting the alley, he peered both ways before brisk-walking across the street. He was heading back to one of the few shelters the city cared to have, the one he often frequented since it was one of the even fewer LGBT-Youth-Friendly. He hated the place, but damn did he need a shower.

Twisting and turning through the streets, he finally stood in front of the rather lack-luster building. It looked almost as depressing as the place actually was. He let out and _'ugh'_ before climbing up the stairs, walking right through the doors. There was a lady behind the front counter, who smiled as wide as she could as she noticed someone walking through the door. Peter gave a half-hearted one in return.

"Peter, it's good to see you, welcome back." Her tone was hard to pinpoint.

"Hi, Emily, I'm not looking to stay today."

"I'm afraid even if you were, we would have to regretfully decline. We're full at this time." She took on a sorry tone now. Peter didn't care, he could manage way better on his own out there than being cramped in here. It sucked, but it was better than having no space to move or have even a sliver of privacy. "But how may I help you, Mr. Parker?"

"Yeah, can I just uh.. Take a shower? Please?" He really pushed it now, putting on the most pitiful look he could manage.

"Mr. Parker," The lady let out a sigh, "You know the rules, I can't let you do that at this moment."

His expression dropped, adverting his gaze to his feet.

"But, if you make it quick," He brightened back up, rising to face her again, "It should be fine. Be out before 30 minutes, understand?"

"Understood!" He didn't need to be told which way to go, Peter was practically a regular here, although he usually never did stay after his first few terrible experiences. He just stopped by occasionally, to shower and such like he was doing today. "Thanks, Ms. Emily!"

When the boy disappeared, the lady rolled her eyes. It was against the rules to let anyone else in after they became full, but Peter Parker wasn't a stranger. He was, unfortunately, a regular that never stayed, to the confusion of the staff, all though they never questioned it. She could get into serious trouble for allowing him in, but under the circumstances and her own pity for the homeless boy, she would allow it.

Peter made a beeline straight for the showers, along the way placing all of his possessions into one of the lockers provided, along with his clothes as he disrobed. When Peter first ever came here, he had refused to shower for so long. Although it was relatively private, curtains and all, he was terrified of anyone seeing him. They would know. They would give him dirty looks, and at worst, they would start screaming at him too. But, it's been a long time since then. The boy got used to it, and frankly didn't care most of the time. Not surprising, he didn't care about much these days for the majority.

Although some days, the thought did continue to linger in the back of his mind. Someone would see him, they would know, maybe they would attack him. No, too risky to attack someone here of all places. They would follow him out, wait until we was alone, then attack him. Then they would leave him out to die. Although this was an alleged "LGBT-Friendly-Shelter", it didn't help him feel any less safe.

_Oh god, Peter, get a hold of yourself!_

His chest was tightening, breath quickening, staring into the wall of the shower. He hadn't even turned it on yet, he was just standing there, losing himself to panic. _Breathe, no one else is in here, it's just me. Breathe._

It took him a few minutes to calm down, holding his hand to his chest as he felt his heart pound. After he calmed enough, he moved to turn the water on, cranking it as hot as it would go, which was only about lukewarm. He stood in perfect place, letting the warm water run down his body, soothing him.

Eventually, he stopped staring into the tiles and scrubbed the dirt off of his body with their cheap soap, and lathered his hair with their dollar bottles of shampoo. The time was starting to slip from him when he suddenly realized. The front desk woman had told him to be out within 30 minutes. Shit, how long has it been already?

He picked up the pace, feverishly rinsing his hair before turning off the faucet. He was in such a hury he nearly slipped as he pulled back the curtain to exit, just barely catching himself as he clutched the towel to his chest. Peter was thankful that somehow, with an apparent packed-full homeless shelter, he was still the only one showering. He practically lost his cool for no good reason. You're so embarrassing, Parker.

Hurriedly, he dried himself off, trashing the towel into the hamper in the corner of the room for it to be cleaned by staff after he left. Throwing his clothes back on and grabbing his belongings, he ran back towards the front of the building, rushing past the confused occupants as he had to cut through the cubicles.

Pushing through the door, the lady looked up from behind the desk, giving him a look with raised eyebrows. He barely paused as he made his way to the front doors. Did he take too long? He wouldn't stick around to find out, judging by her face.

"Thanks for the shower, Emily!" Peter called back as he hastily exited. Behind him, the woman opened her mouth to speak, but wasn't fast enough as his frame had already disappeared behind the shutting door.

Escaping into the city air, he took a deep breath before descending down the short set of stairs. The straps of his backpack clutched firmly in hand, he moved to take out his headphones as he resumed his music. He kept only one side in his ear, just to be cautious if anyone tried to sneak up on him. Peter Parker, the paranoid little brat. Ugh.

Setting off down the sidewalk, he continued to walk through the streets, passing other pedestrians in his strides. He passed multiple stores, the thought passing through his mind. He needed to stock back up on his rations, but first he had to find somewhere he hadn't stolen from yet.

Slowing in his pace, he carefully made note of each little place he saw. There was least one store at every turn he took. _Damn, how the hell did these places manage to stay in business?_

He kept carefully trudging on until coming to a stop. The street in front of him didn't look exactly familiar, which was rather rare, but he had taken so many turns he'd lost where he was. Maybe that was a good thing. In the distance, he could see yet another corner store at the far side of the street, the light dimly falling through the wide-open windows as the sun made its first advance into setting.

 _Perfect._ Peter had definitely never been here before, they wouldn't recognize him! Hopefully. He had some limited access to the news on his phone, but he never cared to check. Probably not smart, as he had no idea if his face was plastered everywhere for his repeated petty thievery. He'd taken such chances so many times already though, and it usually worked in his favor. Peter was smart, young, and fast on his feet. Sure, police had cars, but they didn't know the streets like he did. Well... That didn't exactly apply here, but Peter had the confidence. He could do this, no sweat.

Crossing the rather quiet street with the only odd passing car, he slowly strode his way up. Pushing past the door, the bell above the door ringing out as he glanced towards the register. The man didn't look up from the paper he was pulled into, only managing a cold _'welcome'_ before going back to paying no attention.

Walking towards the back of the store along the row of refrigerated beverages, Peter continued to glance towards the register, even as it was blocked by shelves. He reached to place his bag down, unzipping it ever-so-slowly to make it quiet as possible. Opening the door of the fridge, he took a few water bottles as well as soft drinks. Peter looked back up. Still nothing. Gently closing the door, he moved towards the shelves. Grabbing food items wrapped in plastic bagging was always stressful, they were always so loud, and he managed to snag only a single small bag of chips. He looked up. Still nothing.

He moved to the next shelf, this one only partially hidden from the man that sat at the register. Peter craned his neck to look at the man, who still sat there, flipping through the pages completely unaware what was going on. He didn't risk moving for the items in the mans sight, instead a fist full of beef jerky, stuffing them into the bag. He also reached out to grab two candy bars right next to it, just for good measure.

As the boy's eyes darted around, he turned to look behind him. Along the shelf wall was assortment of medicines. Bottles of pills, ointments, obscure off-brand items, small packs of tissues, and finally at the end of the row, hygiene products. Peter could see small boxes, and from the color and the making out of the faintest design, he could tell what it was. Pads. Fuck, Peter really needed more of those. He completely ran out of them when he was last bleeding, and it thankfully lined up with the last day of his cycle. He hadn't started again since, but it was only a matter of time. And it just was just Peter's luck that was perfectly in the man's line of sight. Shit.

Peter inched closer, looking up at the man and back again to the pads every half-second. It was a surprise all the movement didn't make him look up. Reaching out, he picked it up from the shelf, slowly moving it to his bag. Then it fell, with a clank. A clank that made the man finally look up. He picked it back up and quickly shoved it into the backpack.

"Hey!" His voice was loud and definitely pissed. Standing up from the stool he was resting on, the man clumsily moved out from behind the counter.

Peter was already trying to zip up his bag, only managing half-way before he had to run. He flung it around his shoulder, knocking an assortment of items from the shelves as he made his escape. He could hear the man continuing to shout behind him. Making it out of the door, he didn't take a moment to stop or even think as he nearly fell turning the corner so fast. _Shit._ He was definitely calling the cops on him now.

And sure enough, it only took a few minutes, which only felt like seconds, to hear sirens approaching in the distance. Shit! _Shit shit shit shit!_

Reaching the corner of a street, he paused to survey his surroundings. He noticed the buildings all seemed dark, and hollow, and...

He scrambled into the nearest alley, frantically climbing up the stairs of a fire escape. At the top, a window was left barely open. _Perfect._ Squeezing his fingers underneath, he pulled it up and climbed inside, shutting it behind him.

Stopping to breathe and give his poor, racing heart a break, Peter looked around him. The room was absolutely bare, walls pale and grey, floor dirty and old, pieces of it ripped up to show the wood underneath. The cops would give up finding him here, surely, it seemed as if the whole street was this way. It would take them a while to search the whole place, and Peter would have already made his escape again before they could reach him. Shit, he would climb rooftops if he had to!

Peter fell to the floor against the corner of the wall, hiding away from the window he just entered through. He could hear the sirens drawing closer, not helping his current state at all as his breathing wouldn't regulate, becoming shaggy and inconsistent in breaths. As the noise grew its louder, it then faded just as fast. They must have passed. That made him let out a pained chuckle. _Idiot cops._

He held his hand over his chest, leaning his head against the wall as he closed his eyes. It took him a long time to settle down, and get control over his trembling body.

Pulling his backpack out from behind him, he sat it in front of his crossed legs. Rather rough getaway, but a successful haul nonetheless. Unzipping it, he reached inside to pull all of the items out, sitting them up neatly before him.

Three water bottles, one bottle of Dr. Pepper, two honeybuns he snagged, a little bag of Cheetos, at least five sticks of jerky, and finally, the box of pads. Letting out a sigh, he dragged his hands down his face. He could maybe make this last for three days if he was lucky. He stuffed all of it back into his bag, save for one water bottle, which he promptly open and greedily drank a little more than half of.

Screwing the lid back on, Peter then placed it back with his other items. The room was getting darker from the setting sun. The lack of windows save for about two made it worse, covering the place in a shroud along the opposite corners. He didn't stare at it for too long, knowing his eyes would start screwing with him if he did. It always scared him.

Out of the corner of his eyes, the darkness happened shifted. His eyes were immediately drawn to it, wide in sudden panic, heart picking up its pace again.

_Just the shadows, Peter. Calm down._

Rising to his feet, he brushed the dust from his pants. It was time to leave. He had to get out of the area, in case the cops decided to wisen up and actually care to search the area. He rolled his eyes, and turned to the window, back against the room. The window slid open as he pushed up, about ready to climb out when he felt something hot against his neck. Swinging himself around, he came face-to-face with the biggest... dog? Peter had ever seen in his whole life. Was it even a dog? A wolf, maybe? No... It was too big to even be that!

He held out his hands in front of him, cautious as he backed up to the window, until he had gotten so far he was held up against it.

The thing had no face. It had no eyes. Until it suddenly did. Its eyes seemed to slink down from somewhere behind its head, falling into place as they opened into a wide, piercing stare. A stare that made his body go cold. Oh god, this was how he was going to die! Not from some fucked up transphobe roaming the streets, but a fucking _dog_!

Peter was slowly sliding across the wall, walking around the thing, hands still held out in front of him. He was unknowingly backing himself into the same corner he was sitting in only a few moment ago.

"Nice dog, nice doggy..." His voice was shaking as he tried to sound as calm as possible.

_Fuck._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoy this chapter!! i worked hard on it! it took me a few days to kinda figure out how this would work out :') hope it isnt too confusing or rushed

  
Backpack pushing up against the corner of the room, Peter took a moment to quickly glance back, heart dropping with the realization. _Nice going, Peter. Real smart of you to back yourself up into a goddamn corner. Why not just serve your own head on a platter to the damn thing while you're at it?_

Eyes darting his surroundings, he looked for another possible exit. Across the barren room, he could just barely make out in the dark what looked like railings and an opening in the floor. A staircase, just outside the doorway and across the hall from the broken-down room he found himself cornered in.

The creature was drawing closer towards him. It was silent, gaze almost curious as it eyed him. Peter could just barely make out rows of deadly sharp teeth poking from under its lip as he met its gaze again. The razor-shape teeth lit up in the darkness, stark white against it. Peter never found himself close enough to examine a dog's teeth, but he could make a fair guess that this was definitely not how they were supposed to look. His chest tightened, heart continually picking up its pace, feeling as if it would burst if it beat any harder. He was going to be ripped apart by some fucked up mutant animal.

He spoke in hushed tones to the creature, an attempt to buy time with random mumbles in to keep the thing calm as his eyes continued dancing around. He needed an opening, and thankfully, the thing stepped around just in time to give him one.

He bolted, and the monster behind him let out the nastiest growl he had ever heard in his whole _life_. Scrambling towards the stairs, he practically jumped all the way down before vaulting himself over the next railing. When Peter lept down to the bottom floor, he fell hard against the cold ground. As he hissed in pain from the collapse, he could hear the monster above him, nails clawing against the floor and letting out another roar. He pushed himself back up to his feet, ignoring the pain of his newly-sprained ankle and booked it out of the stairwell. The bottom floor was just as barren as the one he was on before, if not worse-off. The walls around him appeared more in shambles, floor dustier, and windows all broken. He raced around the empty halls, sprinting towards what looked to be the entrance. Hopefully, an escape.

The thing behind him was catching up now, loud in its chase as its claws screeching against wall and floor alike. Racing down the long hall, Peter gave a short glance behind him, not long enough to make out any detail, but enough to really register how fucking terrifying this is. Skidding around the corner, he turned around an abandoned reception desk and rammed himself into the wide doors. To his dread, they barely budged with a clear rattle from the other side. It was chained up.

Thinking quick, Peter threw himself over the desk and slid underneath. He pulled his knees tightly to his chest, and forced himself to barely breathe in attempt to be silent.

The massive beast didn't come to a stop in time as it crashed into the opposite wall, destroying the few abandoned pieces of furniture in its path. As it pulled itself back up, its breath came out as harsh and ragged, gaze flitting around the room. It slowly began to pad, dragging its feet along. Peter could hear it inhaling deep, then letting out a sneeze as all the dust entered its nose.

Peter moved a hand up to cover his mouth, breathes quick and panicked, heart beating so fast you could almost hear it. He could hear it circling the room, until it paused and replaced with something else. The creaking of the wood above him. It had its paws on top the counter, shifting around as it moved to look before they rested upon the edge. Their claws so large they hung off the edge, in clear view of the boy. Peter was living in a real-life horror movie.

The dog stopped moving, and it all became terrifyingly silent. All Peter could hear was its heavy breathing from above. He shut his eyes and silently prayed to whatever god that could hear him. He wasn't exactly religious, but right about now was one of those moments you spontaneously decide to get back into it in hopes of saving your ass. A sudden movement made his eyes fly back open, and the claws that dangled above him just before had vanished. There was no other sounds of movement, not even the faintest breath. Was he safe?

Waiting a few moments just to be safe, he finally decided to let go of his grasp around his mouth, letting out a loud exhale of relief. His body sprawled out as his muscles loosened, taking a moment to lay there and catch his breathe. "Holy shit," He hissed out between gasps.

Laying there for what felt like years, he closely listened once more before deciding to stand. Careful to be quiet, he reached to pull himself up against the desk. As he stood, he held his head in his hands for a few moments and continued breathing through painful breathes. Trying to wrap his head around what the hell he just witnessed was real difficult on the poor boy.

"Ok, Peter, you're fine," He breathed to himself, blinking as he stood completely up. When he opened his eyes, he completely froze, body tensing up so hard that he forgot to breathe completely. His mind screamed internally as his eyes collected what was in front of him. It was just... Sitting there, on the other side of the desk, staring right through his soul. It had never left, it was _smart enough_ to wait for Peter to come out.

Giving him no time to react, it bared its teeth as it lunged forward. The feeling of its spit and hot breathe on his face was the last thing he felt as he fell back, hitting the wall with a sickening crack. He was immediately knocked unconscious, sinking quickly into the void.

* * *

Peter slowly came to.

His bleary eyes refused to focus as he tried to adjust, blinking them multiples times before they finally complied. He was suddenly hit with scathing pain in the pain of his head, letting out a sharp hiss as he reached to touch it. Peter could feel a large lump, but thankfully when pulling his hand back, there seemed to be no blood.

It was light outside, bright streaks of light coming in through the shattered windows. How... How long had he been out? Last he could remember, the sun was supposed to be setting.

Scanning his surroundings, he looked on in confusion. The confusion took a sudden turn into horror. In front of him, slumped over the front desk, a body dangled across it. Sudden panic shot through him, sitting him upright and slamming his back into the wall once again. " _Fuck_ ," He cursed, head hitting the wall for a second time.

Turning over to crawl on his hands and knees, he shuffled away before standing. He stood there a moment, nervously looking at the person. They were wearing a lab coat of sorts, pants to match. He couldn't see their face, but from their long, black hair that was pulled into a bun, he made the assumption it was a woman. Inching forward, he reached out to carefully touch them, maybe shake them awake, before suddenly pulling it back. The touch was rather... _Cold_.

His hands moved without thinking, placing against the woman's shoulders and shaking vigorously. "Miss? Hey, hey, wake up!"

He continued his desperate, futile attempt to wake the lady maybe longer than he should have. She clearly wasn't waking up, only adding to the absolute panic and racing of his heart. Letting his hands go, he took a step back, the dread plastered across his face. Suddenly, it moved, but only to slowly slide down before dropping to the floor. The body sat awkwardly twisted, which made him sick to his stomach, telling him to run. But something caught his eye. There was a name tag, and just above that, above the coat pocket, a single letter. 'STARK', the bold wording read. The name tag was in smaller font, forcing him to lean in to make sense of it, reading 'Dr. Rookes'.

A Stark employee? How... How the hell did they end up out here, somehow dead, laying in front of an unconscious homeless boy?

Peter wracked his brain, bringing his hands up to pull against his hair in utter bewilderment. What the hell happened? All he could remember... Was... He was running from the cops, and he found this abandoned building. He crawled in through a window at the top floor, and waited here as he hid, listening to the sirens grow loud, then dissipate in the distance. Then... Then he was leaving, then... Then there was a dog. A giant, _terrifying_ dog.

His memories rushed back to him, sending him back another step as he could feel it practically knock the wind out of his lungs. This made absolutely no sense. The dog, it had attacked him, hadn't it? How was he... Still alive? Or was he indeed dead, and this was the afterlife? No... That's stupid, of course, but then what the hell happened?

He was folded over himself now, hands gripping his knees as he struggled to breathe, coming out in loud desperate heaves. Peter had to get out of here, especially with a dead body in the equation. _That_ was the kind of trouble he _didn't_ need in his life.

Taking a long moment as he caught his breathe, holding a hand over his chest, he let out a long breath before moving. Brushing off remaining glass along the windowsill, ignoring the tiny scrapes against his hands, he climbed out of the building. Looking to his right, it led out to the street. Nothing passed by, no cars, no people, although he could hear the distant sounds. To his left, it led further down the alley before turning different ways. He gulped before turning, heading further into the back alleys.

Peter must have wandered so far across New York without realizing, he wasn't familiar with this area in the slightest. Taking another left turn as the long alley stopped, it led out towards the water that wasn't all that far away. Farther out, he could see two bridges crossing over the sea. "Brooklyn and Manhatten bridge. Guess I'm in Brooklyn, huh?" He whispered to himself.

 _"What is 'Brooklyn'?"_ A voice came out of nowhere. Peter's body tightened, twirling around every which way to see where it had came from. It... He could've swore... The voice sounded like it had been inches from his ear. But no one, he was all alone.

"H-Hello? Whoever you are, I'm not looking for trouble, you got that?" His voice started out trembling, but then quickly turned stern. His grip on the backpack sling over his shoulder tightened, his other hand that dangled balling into a tight fist. Whoever was fucking with him had the next thing coming, Peter wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty if he had to. The question the voice had asked was starting to sink in now, confusing him further. What kind of question was that?

_"You are my host, I mean you no harm. Do you have a name?"_

Host? What the hell were the talking about? They were obviously hiding somewhere in the dark, somewhere he couldn't see. Maybe they were out of their mind, or _maybe_ they just wanted to fuck with a poor, obviously lost boy. Whatever, Peter was sick of it. He was leaving. "Very funny, pal. Find someone else to fuck with, I'm not in the mood."

They didn't speak again, whoever they were, as Peter continued down the street. He let out a frustrated sigh. New York had some weirdos, sometimes.

It wasn't long until it was back again, still right up in his ear like before. _"Do you have a name?"_ They repeated themselves. The voice was deep and raspy, which he didn't pay much attention to until it suddenly clicked in his head just now. Was some man going to jump out of nowhere, attack him? Hurt him? Just his fucking luck.

Peter spun back around, expecting someone right on his ass behind him. But again, absolutely no one around. Not even a single car. This was getting creepy, and he was starting to get a bad feeling.

"I told you, _fuck off_! I'm not afraid to beat up some creepy old man that won't learn to leave me the hell alone!" He raised his voice, eyes scanning the buildings and every nook and cranny. They didn't find a single thing out of place amongst the windows and dark corners.

Turning back around, he set off at a brisk pace, making his way deeper into the city. He wasn't safe all the way out here on his own, no one around to witness if something did happen. He would be safer around other people.

The sound of cars and faint murmur of people talking hidden underneath grew louder, streets growing more populated as he passed. Rounding another corner, he came to a large, busy street. There were plenty of people roaming around now. He let out a huff as he neared a bench, taking a seat. He kept his eyes up, carefully inspecting each person that passed. Whoever it was, anyone with a brain wouldn't mess with him now, in view of so many pedestrians. The chances were a lot slimmer, although not 0%, which did still keep him on slight edge.

Thinking about it now, the encounter was so... _Strange_. How were they so close to almost talk in a whisper, but nowhere Peter could see them? Whatever, he would just push it out of his mind, not worry about it or think to much. Just be thankful he might have narrowly escaped his own death. ... _Twice_ now, maybe.

Lifting his head, he looked up to the sky. Clouds were scattered around, but it was for the most part clear. The sun was bright as ever, almost hanging directly above, almost midday. _Jeez, I really must have been knocked out all night._

He slowly shut his eyes, basking in the warmth of the rays. The air around his was nippy, after all, it was the middle of fall. October 15th, apparently, as he reopened his eyes to check his phone. There was a slight breeze in the city, making it even cooler. Peter pulled his leather jacket up closer to his face. He was thankful to have come across such a find not that long ago, a month ago maybe, conveniently just in time before it started getting much colder. His clothes were all tattered, and obviously old as he found the majority in a dumpster somewhere. They didn't have a weird smell though, so they were clean enough to his standards. Maybe one of the shelters had washers and dryers free of use, but he never bothered to find out, and he didn't like hanging around them anyway. They were depressing, and Peter couldn't handle it. It was like they were suffocating, he could feel the anguish, the desperation, the hopelessness that emanated off of the people in its walls. It made his lungs tight, and he could barely breathe. Or worse, the pitiful looks from others as they stared at a poor, homeless boy that wandered among them. He didn't need their useless pity. He was fine on his own, he managed on his own, he survived just fine on his own. It's been that way for four years, and Peter Parker was _fine_.

Teeth clenched tight, he pulled himself back out of his thoughts, shaking his head. He stood up from the bench and wandered farther down the street. As he walked, he glanced inside the windows of shops as he passed. Workers behind counters, people hustling through or sitting at tables, waiters walking around the few small-business restaraunts at the side of the street. All of them, they all had lives, they all had... They all had people in their lives. People that cared...

_"They were cruel. They abandoned you, and you didn't deserve it."_

A chill went down his spine. The voice returned. He picked up his pace, turning to look only forwards as he walked briskly. He chose to ignore it this time.

Turning around the corner and entering a short, dead-end alley, he pushed his back against the wall next to the entrance. Pulling out his phone, he scrambled to plug in his headphones and shove them in his ears, connecting to the nearest open hotspot before sinking to the ground. He let the music drown over him, screwing his eyes shit and covering his face with his hands. Who the hell was this person? How did they know what he was thinking? How did they dare know any of his business?

At that moment, he felt something crawl along his shoulder. Looking up to swat it away, most likely some bug, he turned cold as he froze. It was the face of the dog, staring at him just over his shoulder as it appeared out of thin-air. _Holy shit, I'm finally losing it. All these years of isolation, I've ended up losing my damn mind!_

 _"Peter,"_ Its voice dragged, the hot breathe washing over his face. _"I'm want to help you."_

He remained still, feeling a lump form in the back of his throat. The dog continued to speak.

_"I had to go through your memories to find your name, Peter. Miss Rookes was the same, she wouldn't respond when I asked. Then I learned how to find it on my own."_

The both of them sat there, gazes unwavering for a long moment before he needed to blink. He expected the same sight of it lunging towards him when they reopened, but the thing only continued to stare, to his surprise. Peter's mouth hung open as he tried to collect the words.

"That... That - That lady, back there.... Dr. R-Rookes, you - You killed her?" He finally breathed.

_"Not intentionally, I wasn't aware of what disconnecting would do that to someone of your kind. I've done it before with the smaller creatures of your world, and they had been fine."_

"S-Smaller creatures?"

_"Yes, at first it was a 'dog', I think its name is. It had long ears, a long nose, gray hair, bushy tail. Am I correct, Peter? It is called 'dog'?"_

Peter started nervously chuckling to himself, finally moving to drag a hand down his face. That explains why is looks like a dog. But, now that I think about it... It didn't exactly look like a giant dog, it looked more like a... Like a...

"Coyote. I think - I think that's a coyote."

 _"Coyote."_ It repeated, pausing to think for a moment. _"Is that my name, Peter? Would you like to call me Coyote?"_

"Y-yeah, whatever yeah, sure. You're Coyote." Peter was laughing again, this time not stopping as he hid his face in his hands. "Jesus _Christ_ , I'm going nuts. I'm talking to a fucking - a fucking _hallucination_!"

_"I'm not a hallucination, Peter."_

"Mmhmm, ok, _sure_ ," He took his hands back, looking back up to the- at _Coyote_. There was bitter sarcasm in his tone. "Ok, yeah, say you're not, sure. L-Let's go with that for a second, let's say I'm not making you up. That was happened last night it was- it was- real, yeah? That it wasn't just a weird, fucked up nightmare caused by adrenaline."

Peter paused before continuing. "If you're not- If I'm not making you up, then what the hell are you?"

Coyote took a long moment. Its gaze was fixed on Peter this entire time, since the beginning, never shifting. _"I'm not sure. I don't remember anything before being here."_

"Great, that's-"

_"But I can show you."_

"You _what_?"

_"I can show you, Peter. I can show you everything I've experienced, up until you becoming my host. We're connected, we can see each other's memories if we so desire."_

"Host..." He trailed. "Connected- What do you mean? What does that mean, I'm your host, that we're connected?"

_"I'm inside your body's system. I can sense your emotions, hear your thoughts, access your memories. And I'm afraid I cannot leave without causing harm."_

"Right," Peter let out a long sigh. "Ok. Ok, show me, then. Prove to me that... That you're real. That I'm not losing it, just yet."

There was silence after that. Peter looked up at his shoulder where Coyote's face was before, and it was gone. Cool. Yeah, cool. He was totally right, he was losing it.

He had forgotten he even had headphones in, listening to music. He pulled them out of his ears, stopping the track that was playing as he shoved it back in his pocket. The noise of it had fallen into the background, the creature's voice overpowering it coming from inside his head. Peter stood up, adjusting the weight of his backpack on his shoulders before moving to step out of the alcove. A sudden force smashed against his body, pushing him back to the earth.

His surroundings vanished, the street was gone, nowhere to be found. There was nothing but dark, and the faintest of light far off. And he was... He was falling? Looking forwards, he could see the entirety of the planet, of Earth. He was falling to Earth. And somehow he wasn't dying of suffocation. As he blinked, he suddenly found himself in a field of grass, the setting of the sun in the distance. There were trees that surrounded the openness on all sides, and it was quiet. It was so quiet. Save for the sudden lightest shuffle of grass next to him. It was a... Coyote. Peter had never seen one so up close before, he was taken aback. How wasn't it scared of him? The animal drew closer, snout lowered as it warily sniffed. He could see its eyes reflecting his own.

Another blink, Peter heard a sudden yelp. He was still in the clearing, but as he looked around, he seemed to be... It was like he was far closer to the ground. In the next moment, all he felt was his legs pumping beneath him, carrying him farther and farther away. As far as possible. Like... Like he was being _chased_ by something. Something that scared him. Panic and fear were shooting through his veins, pushing his feet even harder.

As quick as it happened, it was gone. Peter was almost blinded by bright lights as he opened his eyes once more. He was surrounded by glass. He could feel his limbs, unable to move and locked in place. The glass pushed hard against him, trapping him in in this tiny containment. He had never felt so claustrophobic in his life. From across the room, he suddenly recognized the sound of voices, the sound of machines, incessant beeping and noise that refused to give him peace. _Labs coats..._ The people, they were wearing lab coats. He didn't have a second to think as the roof above him was lifted, a wave of relief washing over him as a hand reached out, and he reached back.

 _Panic. Confusion. Chaos. Absolute, utter chaos._ He was plummeting again, but this time his legs connected to the ground. Again, he was running, racing to safety, but he didn't _know_ where safety was. The amount of terror in his heart threatened to bring its beating to a screeching halt.

It felt like a wave crashed over him as he gasped awake, coming back to reality. Peter was laying with his back on the concrete, backpack uncomfortably cushioning his fall. People only gave him squinted side-looks as they passed by in the street. He flipped himself over, climbing to his hands and knees as he still continued to breathe in ragged breaths.

"Holy _shit_."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a short chapter compared to the last, but i wanted to get something out! and also try to take things slower with it maybe? if thats even possible for me  
> also felt this would be a good place to stop the chapter so i can figure it out :p  
> (i PROMISE the next one will be better! i just wanted to write nonsense little details to fill the story!)

Peter had continued walking after that. He remained in silent panic, brain scrambling to make any sense of what was happening to him. Coyote didn’t speak again after what happened, leaving the boy to himself. Maybe he did just imagine it after all, his mind making an attempt to make his dull, awful life more interesting.

His feet had guided him all the way to the middle of the park. He sat sideways on a bench, legs tucked underneath his small body. People passed in front of him on the path, jogging or just strolling through. The wind was picking up, rustling through the trees and shaking out more of their leaves. Although it had been rather clear earlier, larger clouds had begun to move in, covering the city in a more gloomy light.

Hopefully, it wouldn’t rain soon.

His stomach let out a sudden growl, pulling him back into himself. Now that he th ought about it, he was  _ starving _ . The last time he had ate was earlier yesterday, and it wasn’t all that much. Guess he couldn’t blame himself for not realizing it until now.

Pulling his backpack from around him, he unzipped it and examined the options. Which was barely anything, so beef jerky it was! He took out two of the sticks, pausing to think if it was a good idea to eat more than one, if he should save it. But the rumble in his stomach reassured him he definitely couldn’t eat just one. Eating only one would be practically torture like this.

Peter shifted on the bench, moving so he could hold the backpack between his legs as he zipped it back up and unwrapped the first stick of jerky. He mindlessly chewed, gaze wandering once again across the park. There weren’t that many people around, and as it got colder it would soon become nearly empty. That was when Peter enjoyed coming here the most. There was something almost peaceful about standing by yourself in a stranded park that was blanketed with snow.

Before he had even realized it, he munched through both of the jerky sticks, and still remained starving. It would have to be good enough. He couldn’t take the chance of eating another, having no idea when he could get more food. He couldn’t even risk going  _ near _ a convenience store this far in the city. Maybe he would try to scrounge up a few bites in a dumpster somewhere, like he used to before, but until then his tiny amount would suffice.

He didn’t always have a habit of stealing from drugstores for his next meal. Even just entertaining the thought used to send him into a nervous episode. But, when you starve and suffer for so long, you’re willing to do almost anything. The first time he ever attempted to steal was a failure, but the cashier that caught him pitied him so much they just bought the food for him, and left him with a warning. It wasn’t long before he tried it again, although he hung onto every last option before finally, he was forced to decide. It went a lot smoother the next successful attempts, and as time went on, Peter got smarter, and far more comfortable with it.

Peter could no longer keep count how many times he’d shoplifted. Most often, he is discrete and can easily get away with it, taking only very few at a time. But sometimes, like his last attempt that ended in running from the cops and colliding with some monster, Peter likes to push his luck. It wasn’t that much that he had stolen, he’s gotten away with more maybe a couple times in the past, even he is amazed at that, but it was him daring to pick something up in the man’s view and clumsily let it slip through his fingers that got him this time.

He  _ was _ smart, but sometimes he didn’t show it. At least he was smart enough to not get too close to cops. It wasn’t like he was some highly-wanted criminal, he was just a desperate kid trying to survive, but Peter figured by how many times they had been called on him, they probably knew his face. And he wasn’t going to get close enough to confirm that theory.

Even without the need to stay so distant, Peter had a distaste for them. He witnessed first-hand how they tended to mistreat the unfortunate like him. How they looked at them like they were a stain to humanity, as if they were all that was wrong with the world. But he didn’t trust, let alone like, most these days. He kept a good distance from everything, willingly or unwilling he wasn’t sure.

Standing back up, he stretched out his muscles before slinging his backpack back over his shoulders. Peter had planned on making his way back to Queens today. That’s where he usually stuck around, and where he was most familiar with. He even had his own make-shift “home”, if you could even call it that. It was more like an abandoned section of the subway he found out he could access through the sewers, decorated with discarded blankets he’d collected on the streets. No one was stupid, or maybe  _ smart _ enough, to venture through the gross gutters enough until they found the sanctuary. It was perfect! Perfectly quiet, lonesome, and very spacious, considering the lengthy tunnels attached and the random assortment of rooms that once served a purpose.

That was the one place he was the closest to calling home his whole life, and it was waiting patiently for his return. Peter couldn’t wait to get back, hole up, and hide from the world again.

Making his way across the park, he stopped briefly at the corner of the street to pull up a map of the area to vaguely guide his way. He didn’t plan on getting lost again.

-

The walk was long and tedious, but it wasn’t anything the kid wasn’t already used to. A whole nearly four hour walk with the help of google maps getting him in the general area, until he began remembering where he was.

The entrance to the sewer tunnels wasn’t far. It was located in a lone back alley, not far from another park Peter tended to visit. He enjoyed venturing out there in the middle of the night, laying against the banks of the lake in a peaceful section hidden by the trees. Maybe he would go back out there sometime.

Turning down a quieter lane, Peter glanced around cautiously before turning down the alley. At the end where it turns off into another pathway, an old sewer grate hid underneath bags of garbage. Although no one messed with it, he made sure to hide it when he decided to leave. Throwing them to the side, he struggled with opening the manhole cover for a moment before pushing it to the side. It was old and broken, making it easier to open with just your hands, but it didn’t help how heavy the damn thing was.

He lingered for a moment, staring down where the ladder led into complete darkness. He quickly gave another look around his before carefully descending, pulling the lid back over the entrance before climbing down to the bottom.

His eyes slowly adjusted to the pitch dark, but he still wasn’t able to see shit. The smell was getting to him now, and he placed his shirt over his face, holding it firmly with his hand. He used his other to sling his backpack off his shoulder, kneeling down to rummage through it for something. A flashlight, which he eventually grabbed onto the handle of and pulled out. Switching it on, he carried on through the dark, twisting and turning through the endless tunnels until coming to an alcove with a heavy door centered in the middle.

Peter pushed all his weight against the door until it screeched as it slowly swung open, scraping against its rusted hinges. He entered and let the door fall faintly shut behind him, holding it gently to make sure it wouldn’t close completely. With a loud breath, he uncovered his face. The air here was filled with dust and the possibility of mold and mildew, but it sure didn’t seem as bad as breathing in what was behind him. And he’d been hiding out here for long enough now and hadn’t gotten sick, so it was probably fine. Building immunity and such.

His footsteps were slower, surveying his surroundings as he made his way through the old service tunnels. A few doors lined the walls along the way. Peter flashed his light through the windows, spying the usual old terminals and file cabinets abandoned inside. The room he occupied was farther down, at the end just before it turned off in both directions.

Coming to a stop as he neared the end, he leaned around the corners of the walls and shone his flashlight farther down. He paused to listen carefully. It was silent, aside from the occasional shifting of old pipes. Peter shrugged it off, and turned back to his room door.

The knob squeaked as it turned, the door hinges following in suit as he pushed it open. It led into a cleared out maintenance room he had refurbished. A few of the racks were left against the walls, holding various items. The rest of everything he had carried and thrown out into one of the rooms he passed earlier. In one corner of the room, blankets and old carpeting were piled together to form a makeshift bed.

Letting his backpack fall along the floor, he moved to one of the standing racks. He reached into different boxes at the top, pulling out a handful of collected batteries and a small, battery-operated lantern. He stood there for a moment, fiddling with it and replacing the batteries before flipping it on, then placing it back on the shelf. Turning his flashlight off, the light of the lantern filled the small room. It occasionally faltered, dimming the room for a few minutes, but you don’t expect things to be perfect when you find them in the trash.

He removed his jacket as he sunk down against the pile of old rugs, shifting around until finding the most vaguely comfortable spot. It felt nice to be back home, somewhere no one would find him. Somewhere he would be safe.

Peter let out a faint hum as his eyes closed, draping his jacket over himself as a blanket and pulling his knees to his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> living in a sewer/abandoned service tunnel/abandoned subway section is real dirty and unethical and you would definitely get sick but like. dont even worry about it ok? this is how it works


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony has a complete breakdown over something that in the end is no where near as bad as he thought.  
> Peter loses it in your friend neighborhood Walmart!
> 
> TW for Emetophobia (brief descriptors and sensations but it doesnt happen)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i deleted this and them immediately regretted it and now im reposting 2 second later!  
> this is suuuper rough. i wrote it basically in a frenzy after posting chapter 4 cause i got STOKED about writing certain scenes. so you've been warned it's probably difficult to read and might have typos i missed. (some are intentional)  
> i may revisit and rewrite bits at one point.  
> sorry if there's also a lot of repeated words/phrases i tend to do that without realizing
> 
> tony/bruce isn't implied they're just ride or die bros. i have different plans in the future :)
> 
> hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoy writing it!

The penthouse was silent except for the faintest noise of ice clinking against glass. It was late at night, the light of the city below seeping in, providing all of the dim lighting that barely lit up the living room.

Tony was laying slumped against the couch, feet propped up against the table. He was facing the wide windows, staring on as he mindlessly swirled the drink in his hand, the noise of it falling into the background. He had been drinking ever since all the calls from Pepper desperately trying to sort his mess out stopped coming in. By now, he was definitely tipping over the line of drunk and wasted.

This was  _ his fault _ , he knew that. But right now, nothing was registering right. He was sinking, rapidly detaching from the reality around him. Tony was repeating his same old mistakes. The same ones that led to the ruin of Sokovia. Everything was happening all over again. He just had to go and get his hands all over something he didn’t completely understand a second time, didn’t he? Would it lead to the same consequences?

Tony was exhausted. He’d been nothing but stressed since it happened, forcing him awake for the last four days. His brain was crumbling against the endless calls, the panic attacks that came and went, the numbness then sudden rush of everything hitting him one again. This was close to being the biggest mess he’d ever seen himself be. He was being pathetic, nothing bad had even  _ happened _ yet except for the thing escaping.

He could feel his chest tighten around his lungs as he thought about it, heart beginning to pound out of his chest from all the anxiety. Pulling himself into a seated position, he promptly folded over himself to hold his head in his hands. Tony was so out of he had forgotten the drink in his hand, and instead of bringing it up to his face he dropped the glass, smashing it on the floor. The loud noise sent him even farther into his spiral, quickly jumping up only to dig a shard into his foot.

“ _ Fuck! _ ” He practically screeched, hobbling on the foot before leaning down to rip it out of him.

Tony stood there for a moment, backed away from the mess now, half-leaned over with his hands on his knees. He caught his breath, continuing to mumble curses before finally moving over to the open kitchen. He reached for a certain drawer, pulling out emergency supplies and sitting them on the island counter before jumping up on one of the barstools. His hands and body felt like they were only drifting through the motions, Tony’s mind continuing to drift from him once again.

A voice brought him back to himself for a brief moment. He recognized it as FRIDAY after a long second.

“ _ Boss, Dr. Banner is here to see you _ .”

He let out a weak chuckle. Of course he was here to see him! Just when Tony thought he could possibly catch a break, Bruce was here to add to the list of ”People That Are Fucking Pissed At Tony Stark Because He Fucked Up Again.”

“Yeah, sen’ him up.” His speech came out a little slurred.

He finished tending to the cut before the elevator dinged, doors sliding open as the man stumbled in.

It took Bruce a while of glancing around in the dark before his eyes found his friend. He didn’t miss the puddle and shattered glass on the floor. “Jesus, Tony, cutting back on the power bill or something?”

“Or som’tin,” Tony responded blankly. “You here ta yell at me too? I gotta say, you have some good timin’.”

“Ha ha, my bad, that’ll would bring green man out, wouldn’ it?” His laugh had no humor in his.

Bruce walked over to the table in the middle of the room, kicking the glass with his boots as he moved. Various bottles of alcohol and used glasses littered the table. He picked one up, eyeing the label before looking back at Tony, concern in his eyes. “How much have you been drinking?”

“Not enough, apparen’ly,” Tony was toying with a piece of plastic in his hands from bandage he had just applied. He didn’t look up to see how his friend was looking at him.

The other man continued carefully stepping until he was standing at the other side of the counter, placing his jacket he held in his hands on top. “Have you… Have you  _ slept _ ?”

He paused for a moment. Long enough to give an answer.

“Tony, I  _ know _ how this seems, but -”

“No, you don’t! You don’-t know!” Tony interrupted him, holding up a finger in front of Bruce in a “Shut The Fuck Up” motion. “It was my fault,  _ green bean _ ! I got the blame! You. Don’t.  _ Know _ .”

Bruce fought to hold himself back, opening his mouth for a quick bite back before shutting it and recomposing himself. “I’m not going to argue with you right now, Tony, not when you’re… When you’re like this.”

“Why not, huh? Why not now? Cause I’ll say the truth and you know it?  _ Huh _ ?” He was crossing around the table now, pushing a hand into his friend’s chest. “We fucked  _ up _ .  _ I _ fucked up. It was my grand idea, and it almost fucked over the whole  _ world _ . And now I did it again. Cause I’mm a fucking dumbass! And maybe, this time, we can’t do  _ shit _ to stop it!”

“ _ Tony _ !” Bruce raised his voice, firmly gripping Tony’s shoulders which made him jump slightly. “We don’t know that! This is  _ nothing _ like Ultron. Look… I-I know you’ve been having issues, ok? I get it. But this  _ isn’t _ like that. This creature, we’ll  _ find _ it, ok? It’s not some super-intelligent AI, it’s just a simple organism, like a parasite, yeah?”

Tony slowly nodded. The grip of Bruce’s hands on his shoulders and his clear voice with his serious, unbreaking eye contact was starting to bring him out of his returned panic.

“So, we will  _ find it _ . It can’t have gone far on its own. And you’re looking for the lady, yes? Anything on that?” He felt like he was treating Stark like a child, but in the moment, it didn’t matter. As long as his words got through to him.

“Yeah… FRIDAY’s on 24/7 alert, but she hasn’t shown up. Is’s weird…”

“Well, she will, ok? As soon as she shows up, we’ll know where she is, and where that thing is, alright?”

Banner had his whole arm wrapped around Tony now, slowly leading him down the hall, heading for the bedroom. He helped him clumsily get into bed, pulling the covers over his friend before gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Look, before things get this bad again, you call me, you understand? And we can actually  _ talk _ about it. But you really need to sleep, you can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

“Yeah… Thanks for… Checking on me.” Tony’s words were getting slower and slower, either from exhaustion or from his brain having a harder time processing everything going on.

Bruce smiled and nodded in response, turning and leaving the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. He collected his jacket from the counter before heading for the elevator, pressing the button to call it up. He gave one last glance behind him towards the hallway, a worried frown on his face.

The elevator dinged, and he hesitated for a moment before stepping in.

-

Peter slowly stirred awake in the pitch black, taking a long moment for him to register he was awake as he reached around himself. His shoulder popped as he reached out, making him flinch back. What the  _ hell _ ? 

He was suddenly aware of his entire body in discomfort, and incredibly stiff. It was almost painful stretching his limbs out, all the creaks and pops of his bones clearly audible. Still dazed from sleep, he was more confused than worried and panicked by the realization. Blindly feeling around the blankets next to him, he found his phone lying nearby. Pressing the side-button of the phone and turning it on, the small light only barely lit the room.

Peter moved to stand up, the movement making him come to another realization. He was grossly sticky, like he had been profusely sweating in his sleep as if he had nightmares. They weren’t uncommon, but Peter couldn’t remember a thing. He would have remembered  _ something _ . He was just… Suddenly asleep, then awake the next second.

He let out a disgusted “ _ Ugh _ .” and moved on, trying to flick the lantern back on. When it didn’t, he let out another disgruntled noise, having to rummage through one of the boxes again. Damn thing was probably starting to die on him, it’s usually still on by the time he wakes up!

Changing out the batteries quickly, the light came back on just fine, and he placed it back down.

“Don’t die on me. If I get on TV for stealing a stupid lantern it’ll be your fault.” Peter mumbled to the inanimate object.

Clicking his phone back on after it went idle, he pawed through the list of things he had on the home screen, looking for his music. It was a good thing he already went ahead and downloaded quite a bunch a while ago, there was no way he was getting wifi down here. And for a broken down, abandoned service tunnel, it sure did have some nice acoustics. Which was a big bonus to Peter.

He let out another, longer disgruntled noise as the screen froze while trying to swipe left, stuck between screens. The stupid phone was at least a good five years old and  _ definitely _ out-dated. It was expected to have some issues sometimes. His eyes rolled, but when they settled on the screen again, he caught a glimpse of numbers before it came back to life. Swiping back to the right, it was the calendar app. October  _ 19th _ ?

Was his phone messing up again? That… That couldn’t be true. That  _ definitely _ wasn’t correct. There’s no humanly possible way to just casually sleep for almost four days, unless maybe you go into a mini-coma. Peter was fucked up, sure, but not  _ that _ fucked up. Whatever. His stupid phone was just being stupid.

Raising a hand to wipe his brow, Peter was suddenly aware he was  _ hot _ . Like “I Don’t Know What Having a Heatstroke Feels Like But This Might Be It” kind of hot.

He scrambled to reach for his backpack, pulling out the flashlight and flicking the lantern off as he fled. God, he needed fresh air so bad right now. Chilling, October fresh air. What time was it, anyway? Peter didn’t even pay attention to it while he was looking at his phone before.  _ Oh well. I’ll find that out when I get back to the surface, won’t I? _

Practically racing through the tunnels, he made sure to awkwardly cover his face as he passed back through the sewer. He struggled with the manhole again for a few unbearingly long seconds before it finally came free, and Peter practically flung himself upwards.

Climbing all the way out, he took a few moments to just stand there, breathing in the non-musky air. The world around him looked dim. Peering up at the sky, clouds were scattered around in neat patterns, a soft peach color lighting them up at one edge. The other was dark, stars starting to peek through. It was… Evening?  _ I slept for a whole day? Damn, I was tired… _

Peter lingered there a few minutes longer, watching the setting sun in peaceful silence. There was a faint breeze running through the alleyway, feeling amazing against his ridiculously hot skin. He held up a hand against his own forehead. It was burning.  _ Shit. I can’t afford getting sick! Fuck… _

He swiveled back around, looking back down at the sewer entrance. He reached down to put it back in place, lazily dropping the bags of garbage over it again.

If it was a fever, then it was already wearing off, right? All the sweat meant his body was doing its job. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad. He just had to walk it off, get himself to sweat even harder. It would go away on his own.

Peter looked both ways as he exited the back alley, turning and walking back up the road, towards the more populated streets of Queens. He would find somewhere to sit down for a moment, get his phone connected to the internet and figure out its stupidity. Then he would go walking, maybe browse his favorite stores. No harm in just looking. Not like he had anything better to do, really.

His feet plodded onward, leading him through crosswalks, down opposite sidewalks, and eventually towards a rather old looking McDonalds. As long as it had wifi, Peter didn’t care about appearances.

Pushing through the doors as he entered, he smiled briefly to one of the workers up front that looked up when he entered. Peter headed straight for the back of the restaurant, taking a seat with his back against the wall as he pulled out his phone. He scrolled through, finding the open wifi and connecting. Immediately he went to google the current date so he could fix his phone. But the answer only further confused him.

_ October 19th, 5:53PM. _

...What?

_ There’s no damn way I slept for that long! _

Peter ran his fingers through his messy hair, glancing around him nervously before back at the phone. Maybe his body was just fighting the fever off for him. Maybe… Maybe he did wake up, but didn’t realize it in the dark? But… But when he woke up, he could  _ recognize _ he was awake. God, everything was just too much and so confusing. His leg was bouncing, due to a mix of emotion he couldn’t even clearly recognize himself. Maybe he should go back home and rest?

No, if he really did sleep for that long somehow, he needed to move around for a while. That would help his foggy brain at the moment. Hopefully.

He briskly walked back outside, pausing for a moment to think. Peter was planning to visit some stores he liked, but given the time, he now figured he might not make it before they closed. So, the next best option, was Walmart. He particularly enjoyed browsing the electronics section. At one time in his life, that was his everything. His day-to-day life consister of school, watching TV, and video games. Revisiting that isle brought back a certain pain, but it also gave him a strange sense of calm and happiness. Peter couldn’t explain it. He wasn’t good at that kind of thing.

Trailing on, Peter glanced both ways before crossing the street again. He knew the general area, and knew which way to go in. He wouldn’t get so easily lost here. This entire section of the city was practically his territory.

The tall, bright, industrial light poles that stood in the connected parking lot of the shopping plaza started coming into view. Peter forced himself forward, ignoring his body groaning in pain from walking so far. His brain felt like it was pounding against his skull by now, but he chose to ignore that too. He had to just walk out the sickness, it was for the better. And he would just swipe some pain pills from the pharmacy. Maybe some candy bars too, no one would notice something like that missing.

Peter briskly jay-walked across the two-lane street between him and the entrance to the parking lot. He picked up his pace as he grew closer. Only a little bit farther, then he could rest for a moment.

He let out a long breath he didn’t realize he had been holding as he stepped through the arch, walking through the automatic doors and making a b-line for the benches right inside the store. The sudden force of his body basically collapsing into the seat made him feel dizzy, as if fading out of existence for a brief second. The experience would have made him quickly balance himself and sit back up, if he wasn’t exhausted and stopped caring.

Peter wasn’t sure how long he had been lazily slumped there for. He was vaguely aware he could feel himself drifting in and out. But fading in and out of what  _ exactly _ , he really didn’t know. Reality itself? Consciousness? Death? Who knew!

He slowly straightened himself, and pushed himself back up on his feet. Maybe skip looking at the sentimentals, go straight for food, yeah? He could snag some smaller items then get the hell out, find somewhere to lay down for the night that was relatively safe.

His body continued fighting against himself, but he continued to push it down as hard as he could. Just a little longer.

Peter was aware of the stares fixed on him by the people that passed. But no one bothered to speak a word, to ask if he was ok, if he needed help or something. He was fine anyway, but deep down it tugged at him. He could feel anger bubbling to the surface, but he pushed that back down as well.

Half-stumbling his way down the refrigerated wall of the store, he briefly paused to pick up a block of cheese, packet of ham, and a smaller packet of pepperonis. The two would go bad in about a day without being refrigerated, but that was ok. He was intent on eating all of it the second he was by himself once again. In fact, maybe he would take another…

Greedily snatching more packets, he glanced around hastily. Peter’s movements suddenly quickened, almost as if he was panicking but it wasn’t quite.... Panic. There were a few people around that began to notice how strange he was acting, awkwardly glancing back at him with raised eyebrows. In his movements he had stumbled back to the open fridges between the isles, his back leaned against it. His body and his surroundings were moving so fast, almost spinning, blurring together as if it threatened to pull him out of reality.

At some point he had slid down to clutch his stomach. Did it hurt? What… What happened? How did he get down here? His eyes darted, confused, afraid…

People were now almost crowding around, standing at a distant as if he had some kind of disease. Well… He did have a fever, sure… Is that what this is? He could hear a faint murmur in the distance. Someone was entering his view, but it was so far away. They were right in front of him, knelt down right next to him, but he was so far away. Peter’s eyes continued bouncing from one thing to the next before landing on the packets of meat he had dropped. He could feel his mouth beginning to salivate so heavily he could mistake it for puking, but this wasn’t sickness. This was sheer hunger and a sense of starvation.

Lunging forward, Peter snatched it in his hands and turned away from whoever was next to him, ripping the packaging open and beginning to feverishly gobble up pieces. Then there was a hand on the packet, a strong tug, then anger raging through him, then claws, then - then blood. There was a shriek from the woman, right in his ear, but it continued to not exactly register. He grabbed the packet back, ripping through the plastic with his hands - claws? He had claws…

The sight of the black claws pulled him back into existence, suddenly making sense of his surroundings. The lady that had crouched next to him was gone, splatters and smears of blood on the clear, white linoleum floor. He… Peter did that?

He was instantly on his feet, the screaming of his body in resistance completely forgotten as he broke into a sprint. He - He had to get out of here  _ right now _ .

Racing away, he stopped almost as soon as he had started. A sudden intense, pungent smell flooded his senses as he wildly searched for the source, and he quickly found it. The fresh meats section. Peter’s body lurched forward without his willing it, claws resurfacing from his hands as he leaned over to claw through packaging. He tore out handfuls of raw meat, shoving it down his throat. The taste made him gag, but the food didn’t stop coming.

A shout from behind pulled him away, spinning his around to the sight of policemen, guns already pulled out against him. Peter slowly turned his whole body, his mouth still stuffed as he refused to push the rest down, spitting it out instead. His hands were held up against his chest, as if stuck in their clawing position.

The sight of his weird, black claw hands must have been surprising, as one of them softly exclaimed “What the  _ fuck _ ”

Everything else that immediately happened was a blur to Peter, and the last thing that registered was a gut-wrenching  _ snap _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everything really goes to hell at the end cause i got so tired while writing but ive committed to posting this so. time to pick up the pieces of this mess now


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *desperately trying to clean up the mess of writing that was the last chapter*  
> i hope this is far more sensible
> 
> enjoye :)

The sudden, immense hunger the symbiote felt and forced through Peter at the mere sight of food tempted him out. Coyote was drained in every sense and starving, and had little control over it as it seeped into his host, forcing the kid into a feverish state. He wasn’t fully conscious yet as his claws took form over the boy’s hands, shoving the food down his throat as pure instinct drove him. He needed food, as much of it as he could get his hands on. Sharing his memories with Peter sent him into hibernation, and Coyote unknowingly dragged the boy down with him.

But the sudden, intense panic and fear that surged through Peter was like being hit by lightning, forcing him wide awake. Coyote sprung to life, taking full form around the boy’s frame in an instant with a deep roar.

_ Protect the host. Protect the boy. Protect Peter. _

Giving the policemen not a second to think, he lurched forward at the one closest as they fired a round into his chest. The bullet barely made it into him before it stopped. His teeth clenched down around their outstretched arm that held the gun, and with a jerk it snapped right off. Coyote turned his attention to the other two that were now attempting to flee, and gave chase, leaving the de-armed man behind him to lay in a growing pool of his own blood.

He bounded across the deli, his legs carrying him over the different vegetable and fruit displays with ease. The symbiote caught up in no time, tackling one to the ground and tearing through the back of their shirt. Coyote paused to chomp up bits and pieces of their flesh hungrily, momentarily forgetting his objective to feast. The sound of doors sliding open brought his attention back, blood and excessive chunks of meat falling from his chin as he turned his head towards the noise.

The last one was heading out of the doors, trying to make it towards the parking lot. He rushed forward, the doors stopping in time before he crashed right through him. The officer had made it a little ways, shouting something into the radio on his shoulder, hands shaking as he reached for the keys on his belt to get into his car.

Coyote didn’t take a moment to stop, careening into them and sending him crashing into the side of his vehicle. The man’s wind was knocked out of him as he sat slumped against the car, wheezing for breathe. Coyote lumbered forward, teeth pulled back in a growl as he slowly approached. The cop tried to scramble to his feet, but was swiftly cut off as the monster’s teeth bit down around his head, removing it from their body and consuming it.

Gorging down the rest along with it, the sound of sirens quickly growing closer pricked his ears. Familiar ones that reminded him of being chased through the city, making his chest tighten with a strange feeling. He was back on his feet, crossing the parking lot and disappearing behind fences, leading into an unlit neighborhood. Coyote’s legs carried him with ease over their rooftops, claws scraping and thudding against the shingles. The shroud of night made him blend in almost perfectly, his dark form nearly undetectable in the shadows as he leaped from house to house. The only thing that gave him away was the amount of racket he was making, but there was no one around to pay much mind, and if anyone did decide to exit their home to investigate, he would have already been long gone by the time they stepped foot outside.

The darkness was soon filled by lamp posts as the houses stretched on, leading into well-lit streets with nicer looking houses. He slid down from the last house hidden in the shade, slinking around behind the house, resorting to leaping through backyards.

It soon broke off from a neighborhood into trees, Coyote sprinting across the street that stood between them before disappearing once more. Fallen leaves crunched between his toes as his pace slowed from sprinting to a mere tiptoe through the barren woods. The road was now a whisper of vehicles behind him as he stood in the middle of the forest, the only other sound a babble of a creek nearby. He approached slowly, feet snapping twigs in half and rustling against more piles of leaves that stood in his path.

He paused in front of it, eyes leading downwards as the small stream led to a short cliif edge where it fell into a ravine that parted the trees. Coyote crept forwards, following the current and stepping down the ledge. The trees around him grew more dispersed as the stream led out into a wide opening before him, lights far off in the distance. His eyes searched cautiously. Although finding no sign of life, he turned back around and followed in the opposite direction, coming back into the ravine. The forest was comfortably thicker once again, hiding him from the city. As he padded along, he carefully eyed the tree roots that stuck out of the sides of the dirt walls. They were all far too small to conceal him.

Hopping out of the trench, he stalked through the trees with attentive eyes until he came across the perfect one. A large oak situated perfectly among the rest, leaves still holding on for their lives against its branches. A hole had been seemingly already dug here before, maybe by one of those “dogs” he had seen before. Did they live all the way out here?

Coyote’s oversized claws made quick work against the dirt, widening the hole into a deep pit where he could squeeze inside. Roots of varying sizes jutted out and hung loosely from the ceiling above. He circled around before lying down, setting his head against his crossed front legs.

He could faintly register Peter’s presence. It was distant and sickly, still attempting to recover from the influence of Coyote’s own fatigue. He would remain vigilant until his eventual return, taking control over his body and devotedly protecting the boy from harm.

-

“ _...Dog? _ ”

Coyote had been staring into space until the early hours of the morning. He had no need for sleep, so he stayed wide awake as he watched out for the boy. He could feel something stirring awake inside of his for a long while before the voice reached him.

“I am here, Peter.” Coyote responded evenly.

“ _ Where.... Where are… we? Why - Why am I... _ ”

“I’m taking over for for now. You’ve fallen ill, and it is my job to protect you. My lack of self-control seems to have been the cause. I’m sorry, Peter, I’m still learning how my bond seems to work.” He spoke almost robotically.

“ _ What… happened? _ ”

“I protected us, and also provided nutrients for your body to heal as well as keep me active. There’s no need to worry.”

“ _ Nutrients? _ ” Peter questioned after a pause.

“Yes, I consumed a considerable amount of meat that should supply us for a good while.”

“ _ What - what kind of meat? What did you do? What  _ happened _? _ ”

“You were threatened by a group of men. My protective instinct woke me up, and I took care of them for you.”

“ _ Oh god… _ ”

Coyote felt Peter mentally dry-heaving at the thought. His eyes lifted along with his head, turning to the entrance of the hole where the morning light was flooding in.

“We’ve been here all night. I couldn’t access your memories while you were away, so this is the only place I could find for us to stay. I’m very unfamiliar with this place.”

“ _ That’s… Fine… _ ” Peter’s words slowed as he was slowly drifting off again, the shock of the information helping in draining what energy he had left in him.

“Rest, Peter,” His voice came out in a whisper. “I had a brief look. I’ll bring us home.”

Peter didn’t register the last part as he went back under. He should have been afraid, panicked, forcing himself awake due to the situation. But he wasn’t. He felt strangely calm. His last conscious thought was of how foreign the feeling was.

-

Tony stood leaned up against a table, one hand supporting him against it and the other scrunching his eyebrows together in frustration. He was standing in his lazily half-cleaned lab, a large projection positioned in the middle of the wide room. It displayed multiple security camera footage from the previous night. Although it was annoyingly low quality, FRIDAY did her best to enhance it to the best of her ability.

Accompanying him was Bruce Banner, and one of his lab’s leading scientists in the study, Sonja Bougher. Bruce was sitting against a table opposite of him. The woman stood closer to the center, watching the videos on repeat with intense focus. Her posture was far more alert than the other two.

When Tony had finally awoken that morning, he was promptly met with over a hundred missed calls. The majority from Pepper. He was surprised she didn’t storm into the tower herself, but then he remembered, she wasn’t in the city at the moment. Pepper had to leave for a Stark Industries business trip earlier that week, and wouldn’t be back until next Tuesday. The whole mess had started almost exactly after she had left. She fretted about having to cancel and return to deal with the whole mess, but Tony reassured her he would have it handled.

After a hesitant call back, Pepper drowned him with words and spoke as if he knew what the hell was going on, as if he hadn’t just woken up. At the realization she backtracked, and aggressively explained what had happened. Tony could feel his heart sink into his stomach. His chest tightening as that dreaded chill washed over him. He quickly hung up, muttering short apologies before doing so as he rushed from his room and into the lab.

Reviewing the footage, the feeling in his stomach only worsened. But one thing stood out the most to him. He reached out to the projection, parting his fingers to zoom in.

“FRIDAY, pause the video and enhance.”

There was no response as she followed out the command.

Tony’s grip on the table to his side tightened at what he saw, heart picking up its pace even faster. He had to look away, hiding his face in his hands.

That  _ wasn’t _ the scientist the creature had left his tower with. That wasn’t Dr. Rookes, that was just a poor, deranged boy that had the misfortune of falling into the mess he had made. Guilt and panic were rushing over him now, and all he could do was lean against his desk and fight for breathe through his hands.

“Is - Is… Is Bruce Banner in the b-building?” He stuttered and shook through each word, fighting for breath.

“ _ Dr. Bruce is on floor #46, would you like me to call for him? _ ”

“Y-Yes,”

It wasn’t long after that that Bruce was at his side, realizing the situation Tony was in. He helped ease him back down, having him copy his breathes to help and pressing his hand to his chest to feel his heartbeat. It took a long while, but Tony was finally able to regain control over himself, straightening back up.

The two spoke lightly before Tony felt he was ready to bring up the situation at hand. They watched the footage in silence, up until the video of the creature fleeing from the parking lot, and seemingly not showing up anywhere else after that. Sonja was called in by Bruce not long after, bringing us to the present.

“We need a plan.” Bruce stated the obvious.

“Ok,” Tony breathed, “So tell me more, everything you know about this thing.”

“Well, we haven’t been able to study it for long, but we’ve made quite a few discoveries. The thing is… Intelligent. It’s capable of adapting to its surroundings and can blend in incredibly well, to an almost undetectable level. When we found it, it seemed to have been a-attached to a coyote somehow. Its presence was… Easily visible to the outside at the time. But through multiple testing, it seems its skill at hiding has increased.”

“Great,” Tony muttered.

“It’s capable of jumping from animal, or host, to another host quickly. It doesn’t seem it can multiply by doing this, so that’s a good sign... The animals after the creature was transferred to a different host seem to be stable, and they’re still kept in the facility for further tests. The thing was… Seeming to increase in its strength every time we tested its “host-hopping” ability, as it’s been called. It started to become unstable. That was around the time, Sonja here,” Bruce nodded to the lady, who was facing the men as they spoke. “Developed a type of sedative.”

“A sedative?”

“Yes. With all the tests we ran and few samples from the subjects we had taken, I was able to adjust previously existing tranquilizers into something that hypothetically would. The first test with the sedative was less than fortunate, but with improvements it became successful. But…” Sonja’s gaze turned to look at Bruce.

“But, it began to show resistance. Further reconfigurements were made, and seemed to be working, up until the night it escaped. Witnesses believe the thing  _ outsmarted _ them, it somehow turned itself invulnerable to the serum, and waited for Dr. Rookes to come in for routine testing before taking its chance to escape.”

“Great, really incredible,” A harsh breath escaped Tony’s lips in aggravation as he grabbed fistfuls of his hair. “So it’s getting  _ smarter _ ? And now it’s running around with some random boy’s body, killing people? And… And we have no idea how it can  _ possibly _ affect humans? This is...”

“Mr. Stark, if I may,” Sonja interjected, “We’ve been working night and day since then to reconstruct the serum entirely. We believe, with this new sedative, it should work at least long enough for us to transport it to a remote location. We’re unsure of the side effects it may have on a human, but, I’m afraid we can’t be worried about that at the moment. It’s important to get the creature far from civilization and somewhere secure before it can cause further harm.”

“Right…” Tony muttered. He obviously did not like the idea of bringing the poor boy, whoever they were, into harm’s way. But in the bigger picture, she was right. It needed to be contained.

“So… I, Me, Iron Man, I what? Just fly in there, needle in hand, ready to tackle that thing down and stick it with some sleepy syringe?”

“We have to find it first. FRIDAY can track all traces of whoever this is, right? We can find it that way, or… Or we lure it out somehow.”

Tony let out a sigh.

“FRIDAY, begin searches for this boy’s face everywhere across all the city’s security footage. Yes, private ones too. No, I don’t care if it’s illegal. Notify me when you find anything. And, uh, bring up anything you can find out about them.”

There was a long pause. Tony looked on in front of him, expecting pages of identification popping up along with records, but only articles stood before his eyes. They all had the same jist, “Teenage Boy Steals from Local Corner Store - Police Are Still on the Lookout”. Ok… So, it was some kid that stole a whole lot, and somehow managed to miraculously outsmart the cops time and time again.

“FRIDAY, where’s this kid’s like, school records or something? A name anywhere maybe would be nice.”

“ _ This is all I could find, boss. _ ”

“Huh…” Was all he could say.

One article stood out from the rest, staring him in the face. Flicking the other ones out of the way, he pulled it closer into view. It was an article detailing the attack in the store. It was practically laughing at him in his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> coyote's speech is a lot like how when you're like 11 online obsessed with sounding formal with proper grammar and all  
> also i try to make things sound smart! when i am the opposite


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sort of exposition chapter? also background ships happening in this fic. also i try to make things make sense. hope it makes sense enough
> 
> WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: child abuse, physical abuse, psychological abuse, child neglect, violence, dissociation, suicidal thoughts, suicidal ideation
> 
> sorry for typos and weird sentences. this is indeed no beta thats written in a hyperfocused state  
> hope you enjoy though! :)

Tony Stark was, in fact, not the person at the head of the symbiote’s study. He was more terrified than intrigued by the thing at first. The creature had first become a target by SHIELD when it was first discovered as an unidentified, possibly hostile entity that had fallen out of the sky. The organization had taken control over the situation, studying the creature carefully, running tests, but none of it seemed to make sense. That was when Bruce Banner had gotten dragged into it. He was hesitant at first, but it didn’t take long before he was drawn into it. The discovery was simply fascinating, like nothing he had ever seen before! There were certain cases on earth similar to how it functioned, but at the same time nothing alike. He became lead scientist on the matter, overseeing all studies and tests. Bruce however, was not a fan of the animal testing. He saw how the symbiote’s connection with the animal caused its eventual death, and it made his heart twist. That was never his decision, but in fact one of SHIELD’s own trusted scientists that deemed it a necessity for its study. When the testing proved to be possibly harmful due to being the proven factor in its growing strength however, Bruce was quick to shut it down.

Tony had taken interest later on, as him and Bruce spoke. Bruce enjoyed rambling about what he was passionate about, and Tony wasn’t one to stop him. He enjoyed the company, after all, they had an important thing in common. Their boyfriends often weren’t around. Except of course Tony had Pepper (She too could understand their plight, but seeing Natasha wasn’t much of an issue compared to trying to fit into a god from another planet or an interdimensional wizard’s schedule), but Bruce didn’t have anyone. Sure, maybe he had work friends, but who the hell hangs out with their friends from work? It’s more like work  _ acquaintances _ . So Tony made sure to invite him over often enough, the big lump usually wouldn’t show unless he was. Something about not wanting to bother him, which Tony understood, but he also cared about his friend and indeed wanted him around.

Bruce would hang out with him in his own lab, typically just handing Tony things he asked for while he talked on end about his own work. Tony had gotten used to multitasking from years of listening to blasted music while working on his creations, so listening to him while fiddling with the mechanics on his suit or working on a next prototype wasn’t much of an issue. Sometimes he would give him a look of intrigue, a side-glance with a raised eyebrow, which only encouraged Bruce to go into further detail (if even possible, he wasn’t one to skim.)

As the weeks passed and Tony continued listening to Bruce babble on end, he slowly grew more interested. Bruce’s work was seeming to be a success so far, and he was learning so many new things that were thought to be simply impossible before. And some things that could potentially be a great insight for new projects. Biotech projects, to be specific. There were apparently many secrets his friend’s experiment held, secrets that could maybe be useful in Tony’s curious work.

An agreement was struck, one that possibly included a few loopholes, but Tony’s conscious was fine with that. There was no harm in it, and everything seemed to be under control.. The testing with animals had come to a stop preventing its growth, the creature was kept isolated, and was knocked out before anyone even thought about entering the room where it was held inside its glass cage. Tony would only have it transferred for a couple of weeks to study it up close, and would be taken care of by his own Stark Industries Labs personnel, joined by Bruce Banner and one of the other lead scientists, namely the one that knew second-most about the creature, Sonja Bougher. That was the agreement.

Then, out of nowhere, life hit Tony in the face. Hard. It had been a while since Tony had fallen back into his old habits so bad. His recovery had been going great, and for the majority he seemed to have control, or at the least capable of handling his episodes. But it seemed his demons were only building their strength behind closed doors, waiting to strike at the right moment, which apparently was  _ now _ . Tony’s heart wouldn’t stop beating out of his chest even when he didn’t  _ feel _ panicked, he became restless, and every chance he attempted sleep it would end in insufferable nightmares and waking up grossly covered in sweat. So, he turned back to forcing himself awake as long as possible to keep him from his dreams, staying up for days on end as he tinkered in his lab until near insanity.

Pepper tried her hardest to help him back out of it, but in the end, all she could do was be there for him. She even tried staying up with him in his lab, but of course ended up passed out in a chair, waking up only to find Tony still wide-awake and on the same project. Hours turned into days, and days turned into weeks, and eventually Tony’s time he had been allotted was up. In his state, he had completely what he had been originally doing. He had pulled himself back into the comfort of his workspace and locked himself out from the world, forgetting time itself.

That had been the only thing to slowly pull him back out from his work, and try to focus on what his previous plan was. He needed to snap out of it.

Tony pitied Bruce into allowing him more time, and knowing his situation and the fact he indeed felt bad for him, he hesitantly allowed it. Without him, the lab workers assigned to the task had learned plenty themselves, and enough to pass on to Stark. But he needed to be there himself, learn from it himself. There could be so much they might have missed, and not to sound like an asshole, but Tony tended to trust his eyes only. Although their notes and studies were, of course, helpful.

Tony had been allowed only a single week longer, and then the creature would promptly be returned to the compound. Pepper left for his business trip when she deemed Tony was ok to be on his own. Surprisingly, in the few days since he talked to Bruce, he was making a great effort to fight back his terrible habit. And it seemed to be getting better, after only a few days he could actually  _ sleep _ again.

And then one mistake, and everything fell apart. One mistake, and the symbiote that was deemed a potential threat had escaped. And that, apparently, was being proven right. As soon as Tony seemed to be getting better, he fell back apart even faster.

It was Tony’s fault. He knew it was his fault. He was always the one to fuck everything up, like he fucked up before and nearly destroyed the planet. And now, this alien was out on the loose, a  _ threat _ , and it would be his fault if something terrible happened. For all Tony knew, it could be linked to what happened in New York those years ago, it could call them back. What if whatever happened then happened again because of him? What if this time, they came back, and he was too busy falling apart to save the world, and they would be successful, which again would be his own fault? His own fault, twice! Double fault!

Tony could barely live with the thought. It was the only thing he could think about. Every other thought in his brain barely made sense, it was impossible for him to think straight. All he could imagine was the inevitable doom he had just caused. It was in his care, in his tower, it was because of him it was in the city. It was all his fault.

Pepper panicked at the news, and tried her hardest to get home sooner, but her hands were tied. Instead, she took every free moment she had to call Tony, to check up on him. She wished so bad she could be there for him at that moment that it hurt. 

Bruce was there, but he was busy dealing with the mess Tony had made. He felt guilty for that too, although he couldn’t help barely being able to function at the moment. Every chance Bruce got, he made sure to check up on him as well.

Stephen was busy, he’d been gone for a while now. Tony wasn’t exactly sure what it was, but he knew it must be important, so he didn’t bother trying to get in contact. Although it silently killed him.

Steve, Bucky, Natasha, Clint. All busy doing god-knows-what. Tony knew Steve would be pissed at him and give him an earful as soon as he got back. Maybe he would pity him enough to postpone it though.

Thor, gone as well. He’d been gone for a while now, not leaving much to go on as to why he was gone. Bruce and Jane were left to wait for his eventual return. The two were friends and liked to stay in contact.

Rhodey, Sam, Vision, Wanda, Pietro. They were around, although at the compound, three hours away from the city. Rhodey tried to get in contact, but Tony ignored him. Two people worrying about him was plenty, and he didn’t feel like getting an earful from him either.

Tony lay in his bed with no intention to sleep, only simply staring at the ceiling, lost in his thoughts. He had been drinking away his problems again. In the dark of his room hid countless bottles, they were strewn across the floor, on his nightstand, on a few shelves. Anywhere you could put something.

He really needed to clean this place up before Pepper got back.

-

Coyote remembered these tunnels. He remembered the first time he found the sewers. It was the day he had escaped, the most terrifying and confusing day of his life. The city was  _ so _ bright and everything was  _ so _ loud. But the sewers were dark and quiet, in a peaceful way that made him relax a little. He understood why Peter called this home.

That first day, he had wandered the sewers aimlessly. The intertwining tunnels that connected the city stretched on forever. Now with what little memory he had and what Peter gave access to, he had a fair understanding of the direction he needed to go in. Coyote wasn’t going to roam the city and risk danger, so he slunk his way around the sewer. Eventually it would bring him where they needed to go.

As much of a purpose the symbiote seemed to have, he was just as confused by it. The moment Coyote laid his eyes upon Peter in that abandoned building, he felt a sense of connection. He  _ did _ try to kill him at first, ignoring the feeling and striking out of terror, but at the last moment that feeling overcame him. Instead of killing the boy, he merged with him. He could feel all of Peter’s emotions, and even his memory once he awoke. Peter was an outcast. Coyote seemed to sympathize with him, feel bad for him. And he felt like he needed to be with him. Why? It made no sense! But for the first time since he found himself on earth, he almost felt like he belonged. Like this was where he was supposed to be. But now, Coyote was making Peter sick, just like he had made those animals sick before they passed. Was he going to die? If he died, what would happen to him?

He didn’t want to lose Peter. He didn’t want to lose what felt like the only thing that seemed to make any sense. Maybe the boy would recover just fine, he was far bigger than the animals he had possessed, although small compared to the other humans he’d seen. He didn’t know what to think.

For now, they would reach their destination and Coyote would let him rest. The boy should be able to recover with Coyote’s regenerative abilities, especially after the meal the previous day.

The only reason Coyote was aware of this ability was because of his first host, the coyote. When it had run while being chased, it had slipped and fallen awkwardly down a steep hill against the rocks. The animal sustained a fractured paw, and the pain instinctively drew him out. He watched the paw correctly reshape before his eyes. Hopefully, if he could heal broken bones, he could heal sickness.

After a long walk, they entered the abandoned subway section where Peter resided. It was dark, but Coyote was able to see just fine. He was able to slowly revert and guide Peter into the pile of blankets. Now that they were safe, Coyote didn’t need to use so much of his energy in order to take control. Instead, he made himself small, and only about half his body. He was attached to Peter’s side, and laid over his torso to keep him warm. He laid his head over his shoulder, and closed his eyes.

-

_ Somethings snapped against Peter’s back, forcing him to scream out in pain. He could hardly see through his tears, but he knew it was dark. He was in a room that felt familiar. His knees were curled up into his chest, leaning between what appeared to be a bed and a nightstand. He couldn’t see behind him. He didn’t want to look behind him. _

_ Another crack, another scream, more sobbing and desperately begging for it to stop. It didn’t. It continued until his whole body felt numb. Tears kept falling, although the meaning behind it he couldn’t remember. He couldn’t think. _

_ The scene changed. It was freezing cold. Peter was sitting outside in the back of an alley. A lone lamp post at the end peeked around the corner, the light reflecting off the piles of snow. _

_ He was still curled in on himself, sitting against a brick wall slowly sinking into the snow. Tears started falling again, quickly turning into horrid cries. Peter was screaming in anguish for anyone to hear. He desperately cried out for what felt like forever, a wordless plea for help. But no one came. _

_ He wanted to go home. He wanted his mom to hold him. But she hadn’t held him in years, and he didn’t have a home anymore. Did he even remember what home was like? _

_ His throat became hoarse, and his crying became silent sobs. The city was silent. _

_ Everything moved quickly. Peter was somewhere he couldn’t recognize, but felt that same sense of familiarity. The world shifted around him, and there was a hand around his throat that chokes him. Faces he thinks he should remember but can’t. Harsh laughter in his ears. Tears in his eyes that burned. Desperate attempts to breathe. Blows to his stomach and ribs. Was he going to die? A part of him hoped so. _

-

Peter’s eyes opened, but he was incredibly slow to take in his surroundings, remember where he was. He felt hollow and empty. Numb. Nothing felt right in this moment. The world around him didn’t feel right. Reaching out a hand, he felt almost fascinated by it. That was his. Supposed to be his, anyway. In this moment, this wasn’t his body. This wasn’t where he was supposed to exist. So he simply wasn’t.

He registered that he was in the subway again, in his room. It was dark, but Peter could see fair enough. He acknowledged that was strange, but didn’t react.

Peter could feel the heat from his body and the pounding of his head. That was the only thing he felt connected to. And the pressure that was against his chest. Maybe if he was more in reality, it would have startled him, but he was instead comforted, especially when he looked down to see what it was. It was the dog, or whatever it was called. He wasn’t sure if he should be concerned instead, but he couldn’t bring himself to think hard enough about it. His brain felt like a jumbled mess.

The dog shifted against him, apparently aware he was vaguely awake. “My name is Coyote,” He gently reminded, picking up on his thoughts. Peter didn’t attempt moving his lips to respond.

“You need to eat. You’re hungry.”

Peter hadn’t even picked up on it yet, but as he slowly realized, he did feel hungry. But he didn’t have the energy to move his limbs.

He was suddenly jolted back awake as Coyote spoke again, unaware he had drifted off.

“If I feed you, will you eat?”

Peter let out a short groan, he didn’t need to be  _ babied _ . That made him sit up and reach for his backpack, having a huge struggle while doing so. He was painfully slow as he pulled out what food supplies there was.

“Eat all of it.”

_ What? I need that for later.. _ He couldn’t bring himself to talk out loud, but that didn’t matter.

“I can get you more. Eat all of it.”

Peter was hesitant, but slowly made his way through all the beef sticks, then the honeybuns, then the bag of chips. He felt a little better, not great, but a small improvement. And eating had woken him up a bit more.

“Drink.”

Why did this damn thing have to care about him? What did it matter? He couldn’t argue that he  _ did _ feel parched, but being told what to do was pissing him off. He drank from a water bottle with a glare.

Coyote had been sitting in his lap the whole time, adjusting when he sat up. He simply stared at Peter with an unreadable gaze, and his voice was even and almost gentle. It just made him more angry.

“Why do  _ you _ care? Why are you even here? I don’t want you.” Peter finally moved his lips to speak, voice quiet but harsh.

Coyote didn’t flinch, only continued staring in silence. He thought for a long while before responding, tilting his head. “If I leave, you might die. But if I stay, you could also die.”

“Thanks, I guess.” His words were sarcastic and hollow. It should be reassuring, his life was so miserable, especially in this moment. But hearing that he was going to die made panic shoot through him. Why? He didn’t have a single reason to keep living. He slumped back against the pile of blankets.

“I’m trying to save you.”

There was another long moment before Peter said something.

“Why?”

“You want to live.”

Peter didn’t respond.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have no sense of pacing!!! everything happens so fast! my brain is aaaaaa!! you can absolutely tell i am an amateur writer but as long as i have fun. you know.
> 
> waaaa hopefully after EVERYTHING is set in motion i can try to calm down. but i love me some drama and action!
> 
> WARNING for violence and brief animal abuse
> 
> enjoye my mess

Peter spent the next couple of days slipping in and out of consciousness, only stirring when his body alerted him of his need to use the bathroom. He was in a state far removed from reality, and failed to notice much between sleep. Coyote, however, was painfully aware of it all. He felt the gnawing hunger as it quickly crawled back, the aching pain coursing through his whole body, the fever that caked his delicate skin in sweat. He hoped it would have improved, but it seemed to only get worse.

Coyote himself was beginning to get exhausted, occasionally nodding off while standing watch. He was good at waiting patiently, but waiting meant nothing if the boy wasn’t improving like he had hoped. When Peter was awake, if only for a moment, he convinced him to sip on some water before falling back asleep. But he needed food. Which meant he would have to muster up enough energy to drag them out of the sewer.

Coyote could take over his body while he was asleep, although it did take much more out of him. Especially in this moment. It took him a long while for his form to fully take over, a much agonizingly slower process than when he had snapped awake in the grocery store to protect Peter. His movements were sluggish, but he was determined.

He climbed out of the sewer through the same passage Peter often used, and slunk out into the city. The cold in the air was bitter. Coyote was rather immune to feeling the effects of weather, but in their current situation, he seemed to be more susceptible. The sunlight was blinding in his eyes, taking a few moments struggling to adjust.

The smell of food, although distant, had immediately caught his attention. He felt he was starving as well, but this time he would try to be less ravenous. He wasn’t even sure he could exert that kind of energy at this moment.

Coyote carefully passed through the alleyway, sticking closely to the walls. He tried to make himself as small as he could, but he still needed enough space to create a protective shield around Peter. Maybe he could pass as a stray, a slightly larger one, but more passable than a gigantic one.

Trudging along, he kept his distance from unfamiliar humans as the scent drew him closer to the more populated streets of Queens. He passed dumpsters along the way, remembering faintly seeing Peter’s memories, just short ones that blinked past, of him digging in them for something to eat. But they smelled  _ awful _ , so he moved on.

He fought through the mental haze, pushing himself onward towards the smell, keeping to back alleyways and carefully stepping around crowds. No one seemed to pay too much attention, distracted by their phones or simply not noticing. He didn’t stick around long enough for anyone to get a good look anyway. His ploy to blend in as just another street dog seemed to be working.

He was completely focused on the scent as he drew closer, the rest of world drowning out. The one that mattered in the moment.

Crossing through another alley, the sound of approaching footsteps caught his attention, bringing him to a stop.

-

Pepper had arrived back home two nights ago, and she hadn’t left Tony’s side since. Her presence put him at ease. He still found it a struggle to sleep, but Pepper helped him through it. She stayed up late with him, getting him to lay down and relax a little as she ran her fingers through his hair. They had laid like that for hours the first night she was back until Tony eventually fell asleep snuggled up in her lap. He was so grateful for his fianc é e, what did he ever do to deserve her?

But the absence of any sightings or signs at all of the entity nagged at the back of his mind. It should’ve shown its face again by now, FRIDAY should have caught  _ something _ , she had access to all security footage across the city! But there was absolutely nothing, and all he could do was wait in agony.

It was the third day after Pepper’s return, middle of the day, the weather was clear, the tower was quiet. It almost felt peaceful. Tony was curled up on the couch in the expansive living room of the penthouse, Pepper curled into his side. They had just ate late breakfast, Tony had attempted cooking it himself. He actually felt like trying to cook for the first time in what was probably years, and managed not to make a huge mess out of it. The bacon and sausage were a little too crispy, which Pepper made sure to comment on, but it was still edible. And eggs were eggs. You can’t mess up eggs.

They were lounging peacefully, watching a movie on the wide TV screen. Both of them still wore the same clothes they had slept in, which was unusual, especially for Pepper, but it fit the occasion. Everything was calm.

And then it happened.

“ _ Boss, there are reports matching the description of the escaped creature. There’s been an attack. _ ”

Tony’s heart sank, and his whole body suddenly tensed. Pepper gripped his arm and whispered to him, but he couldn’t hear it. He was on his feet in seconds, already briskly walking towards the elevator doors. Pepper followed him closely, desperate words escaping her mouth, trying to reach him. His mind was rushing with too many thoughts to understand what she was saying. There was one prominent voice that screamed at him above the rest.  _ This is your one chance. Don’t fuck it up. _

“Tony, you don’t have to go out there. It’s alright, I’m gonna call Bruce, ok? He’ll have someone out there within minutes, you don’t have to do this, honey. You can’t go out there like this, please,” She followed him with a loose grip around his hand, moving to hold onto his side as they entered the elevator. The look on his face scared her, and it seemed her words didn’t reach, as if he didn’t feel her touch at all.

FRIDAY took the elevator to the top floor without needing instruction. When the doors opened, Tony didn’t move right away. He swallowed before turning to face Pepper, a look of deep concern across her face. “I have to,”

“What? No, you don’t have to! You don’t have to deal with everything yourself, Tony, you need to stay here! You can’t go out there in the state you’re in,” She begged.

Pepper’s arms fell as Tony moved out of her grasp, stepping out of the elevator and onto the helipad. Tony kept a suit up here, for emergencies. Emergencies like right now.

Suit pieces flew at him from their separate compartments along the wall, locking into place around his body. “Location, Fri.” He spoke as the faceplate clicked into place, voice low yet sharp.

“ _ Subject is on the move, Boss. It’s heading towards Bayside. _ ”

Tony turned to give Pepper one last glance. She hadn’t moved from the elevator. She knew all too well that there was no stopping the man when he set his mind to something like this. She looked away from him before the doors closed. Tony took a sharp inhale, and then he was off.

-

It didn’t take long to reach his destination, pushing the repulsors to their near limit. FRIDAY kept close watch on the symbiote, tracking it down every step of the way, eventually leading to the edge of the golf course where she lost sight as it sprinted across the field. Tony hovered above the grass a moment, surveying the area as he landed. The area was clear. Apparently no one was interested in golfing today.

“FRIDAY, search for heat signatures.” 

“ _ On it. _ ”

He took off again, eyeing his surroundings carefully as he shot across the golf course. It went on like this for at least thirty minutes before he finally paused. “I’m not seeing anything, Fri, you’re sure it came here?”

“ _ The place is surrounded with security cameras on every street, Boss. If it left, I would know about it. _ ”

He let out an aggravated noise. The longer he searched, the more unnerved he grew, the closer he was to having a full-on breakdown in public view. Reporters and their vans had filed up on the streets at first sight of him. He was able to ignore it long enough, but the feeling of eyes on him was beginning to grow heavy. It forced him farther from the edges of the field, toward its center.

Tony had to take a moment to catch his breath, faceplate falling back from his face as he gasped air into his lungs. One of his metal hands clasped over his chest, the other propping him against a lone tree. He couldn’t get the feeling of their judgmental gazes out of his head. God, Pepper was right, of  _ course _ she was right! Tony  _ shouldn’t _ be out here, but he had a deep need that pushed him forward. A need to fix his own damn problem for once, to take responsibility for what  _ he _ had done. He was going to find this thing and bring it back to the compound.

-

Spinning around, Coyote had no time to react before the leg connected with his stomach. He let out a sudden yelp of pain as it sent him stumbling backwards. A group of clearly intoxicated men were leering at him, the one that stood at the front of the trio snickering to the others. The smell coming from them would’ve made his nose shrivel up, if he had the chance to. It was a wonder that he didn’t  _ smell _ them approach.

The first boy stepped forward, spitting at the ground in front of him. “Ugly mutt,”

Climbing back to his feet, anger spurred awake inside of him, a deep growl escaping his throat. The man just laughed again, turning to his friends then back to him. “You’re not that scary.”

He lurched forward to kick out a leg that was aimed for the symbiote’s face. A mistake. Coyote’s multitude of teeth bared, and he saw sudden fear flash through the man’s eyes just before they connected with his calf. They tore through his jeans with ease as he whipped his head around, ripping apart the flesh. He was screaming and crying now, their previous “tough” facade instantly vanishing as he desperately tried to pry him off.

His friends that stood behind him were frozen for a long moment before he saw them run off, opening his mouth to scream out pleads for help. Coyote heard the return of footsteps what seemed only a moment later, louder than before. The two returned, make-shift weapons in hand. One held the end of a broom, the other what looked to be a piece of piping. He refused to let go, the force behind his tugging inching the drunken fool down the alley. The two other men began to slowly approach. Coyote let out another vicious growl, but it only made them pause in their tracks momentarily. They really wanted to  _ save _ this asshole?

Their steps suddenly quickened, forcing him to let go and make a break for it. Again, he was late to turn, and something connected against the side of his head. It forced him to the ground before he blearily stood back up, receiving more hits to his body before he could race off. Thankfully, they didn’t give chase.

He sprinted through the streets, vision becoming increasingly blurry, harder to keep his eyes open, difficult to even think. Cars stopped and honked at him as he ran right through, his feet eventually leading him into the open field. He ran aimlessly before finally he clumsily collapsed. Coyote ended up near a pond with a hill overlooking it, and he waited to take a breath before crawling over and scraping out a hole. The sound of the repulsors startled him, sending him scurrying into the half-finished hiding spot.

Coyote stayed there, holding his breath and waiting for it for it to pass. The sound kept coming and going, and eventually the source of it came into sight, circling above him. He pushed himself closer to the dirt. The fear kept him alert, as much as his body wanted to give out.

It seemed to stop. He was ready to crawl back out and scurry away when the thudding footsteps against the grass approached, making him retreat once more. He didn’t expect to figure to walk right up next to him. And apparently not even notice him as his mask removed itself, showing his face.

He could see the man’s twisted face, conveying something he didn’t understand, and could clearly hear his ragged breath as he tried to breathe. A feeling in his chest tugged at him. He knew this man, but from where? He nudged forward with curiosity. The sudden movement seemed to catch the man’s eyes, and his previous expression turned from fear, which he understood, then changed to something else he couldn’t understand anymore.

The faceplate fell back onto his face, the noise making him jump back. The man, now hidden behind whatever form he had taken, which  _ also _ reminded him of Peter, was holding his hands out in caution as he slowly took a step forward. Coyote didn’t like that. He growled in warning.

He didn’t hear the conversation Tony was having with his AI inside the suit, questioning if she was sure this was it. He commented on how it appeared far smaller than what they’d seen before. FRIDAY ran a brief scan, and confirmed she had been right.

“Easy, puppy,” Tony attempted to calm, “This doesn’t need to be difficult, yeah? I don’t want to hurt you,”

Coyote’s clear white eyes squinted at him as he spoke. The memory came back to him. He remembered where this man was from. His lips pulled back in a snarl, flashing his teeth as he dropped his stance in defense. He was  _ lying _ .

“O - kay, yup, yeah, not a dog,” Tony commented nervously.

The symbiote had been backed into a corner, the den he had dug out to hide in becoming a cage as Tony continued advancing towards him. He was well aware he wouldn’t last long in his state. He could feel himself falling forward occasionally, threatening to stumble over himself although he had barely moved. His vision felt slow, the world swaying around him. Running was the only option.

Coyote bolted, slipping right between his legs before he could even think about trying to grab hold of him. He was sprinting as fast as his body allowed, and of course, Tony was immediately right on his heels. He would be able to catch him in no time if he only went straight, so he twisted in a different direction when he had started catching up, repeating the process as they made their way out of the field and into the streets. Vehicles screeched to a halt as he crossed the path, and quickly made an escape into a narrow alley. Tony had nearly caught him by the tail before he was forced to come to a stop.

His claws clicked against the concrete as his sprint began to slow down, ears swiveling and head turning to listen for the distinct sound of the man’s suit. It was quiet, albeit for the typical noises of city life. Coyote clung to the side of the brick wall, wanting nothing more than to collapse, but he couldn’t stop here. He still had to find food, he had to help Peter get better. His emotions were so mangled and everything was confusing, he wanted to  _ help _ , but he had no idea how. He barely knew anything at all.

A loud  _ clank _ of something falling against the ground behind him startled him, spinning around, ready to fight with his last breath if he had to. But the alley was empty, and he felt a slight breeze on his face. Must have been the wind.

A sudden, unseen hand yanked him upwards, and he could briefly feel something being jabbed into his neck. Coyote fought hard to escape the grasp, or maybe turn around and bite at whoever it was, but he couldn’t see  _ anything _ ! There was  _ no one _ !

-

“I tried to be civil,” Tony quipped, “But I have to admit, a great opportunity to try out my new stealth mode.”

The canine-appearing creature was quickly settling in his arms, the serum thankfully doing its job. Now that he had a better look at it, it definitely was a lot smaller than it had been in the CCTV footage. Strange, but maybe that was a blessing. He didn’t have to struggle to take down a horse-sized wolf long enough to jab it with a needle.

This had gone a lot smoother than he had expected. Did he almost lose his shit for nothing back there?

Whatever, it didn’t matter, what mattered was getting both the boy the creature held captive and itself to the compound. Definitely anywhere away from civilization.

Tony carefully adjusted the slumped figure in his arms, holding it close into his chest before taking off. The flight there in his suit usually didn’t take long, it was pretty straight-forward, taking up to an hour maybe. Sonja had informed him herself that the tranquilizer would be good for at least two hours, so that gave him plenty of time.

A strange noise caught his attention mid-flight, looking down at the form of the creature to watch it seep back into a person’s skin, turning it from a crackled black into a pale white. The sight made his stomach turn. Whoever it was, they looked nearly  _ dead _ . He needed to get to the compound, and fast.

A thought crept into the back of his mind. Is this what had happened to the missing scientist from his lab? Tony had continued searching for her, but nothing seemed to come up after his whole week of having FRIDAY scour for every trace. Was she lying dead somewhere?

And, as he kept looking at the person’s face that he was holding in his arms, was it the same as the one in the CCTV? Did the creature switch between hosts again? Was there another dead body laying around New York that was his fault too? He couldn’t remember the details of the person in the footage, but he was  _ sure _ it was a boy. This was not a boy.

The sick feeling in his stomach only got worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise to actually try writing decently the next chapter instead of letting my dummy brain take the wheel


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope yall enjoy this chapter!! it was fun to write even though writing tony pov suuuucks cause i have to sound smart somehow. all the pieces......theyre falling into place.........

After that, Tony had gotten into contact with Bruce to inform him on the situation. He was brief with his words, but made it clear he needed Dr. Cho to be prepared in the medbay before he arrived. He hung up on the man before he had time to question him on it.

When he eventually arrived, Dr. Cho and a league of doctors were waiting for him. They took the frail figure of the stranger from him without a word, lowering them to the gurney before disappearing, leaving Tony standing alone in the front office. He thought about following after him, this was  _ his _ fault, but Helen would scold him and force him out anyway. Bruce didn’t leave him standing by himself for long, appearing out of the elevator doors and stepping towards him almost cautiously.

He waited for Tony to speak first, but as the silence drew on, he instead motioned for him to follow. Bruce led him back into the elevator, and pressed a button on the keypad before the doors shut. The hum of the elevator filled the empty space as it brought them a few floors up. Tony appreciated the brief emotional numbness he felt before the tightness in his chest returned full-force when the doors slid open into the common room.

His steps were slow, dragging behind Bruce as he looked back to make sure he would follow, as if he would run away like a scared animal. The room around him was filled with the rest of the Avengers, sitting in various locations and positions. There was murmuring between them before Tony entered the room, but the silence was quick to return as they all paused, turning to look at him. His eyes danced around until they met those of possibly the last person he wanted to see. Steve Rogers.

The man had his arms crossed, although he had a sympathetic look on his chiseled face. It made him angry that Steve would somehow  _ pity _ him right now. He should be  _ pissed _ .

Steve broke through the anxious silence. “Tony, I think we should talk.”

Tony blew out a long breathe that filled his cheeks, slightly rocking back and forth on his feet. “Kinda late for that now, huh?”

Looks were exchanged between different members. It seemed like everyone knew about something he didn’t. He hated it. He didn’t want to be apart of whatever this was right now, it wasn’t that great of a time.

“Well, uh, let’s talk later, yeah? I get the jist Cap, I fucked up. You don’t have to say it.”

He was turning to retreat back to the elevator before a different voice spoke, who he quickly identified as Natasha without needing to look. “Tony… We’re a  _ team _ . We’re there for each other, you know that, right?”

Of course he knew that. He always tried to be there for them if his presence was required. Hell, he would even come to Steve’s call if it was  _ that _ bad.

“Yeah, I’m always there to cover your asses, aren’t I?” He was quick to joke in response, managing to hesitantly meet her gaze.

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” Her eyebrows furrowed.

Tony let out a disgruntled sigh, fiddling with his coat pocket anxiously as he looked away. “Look, I’m not up for the whole talking-about-feelings thing right now. And why does it matter? There’s something more  _ important _ going on right now. We have a  _ kid _ in our medbay because I  _ fucked up _ !” Oops.

“We know,” Steve swallowed, moving off of the counter he was leaning against. “But we can’t exactly help that kid ourselves, only Dr. Cho can. We have to be patient.”

Patient. One of the many things Tony was not.

“Tony,” Bruce spoke up now, his voice a whisper as he started. He had been fidgeting the whole time himself. “We - I... I know you’ve been having a hard time. We’re all here for you, Tony, if you ever need us. You can talk to us, you…”

“You don’t have to wait until you have another breakdown before you let someone help you.” Rhodey finished the man’s sentence for him. He was sitting in a lone chair across the room, staring Tony down.

Tony squinted at them, eyes shifting from one to the other as they spoke. He didn’t need to be ridiculed about how poorly he dealt with his emotions. A humorless chuckle escaped his lips. “Yeah, that’s what therapy’s for, guys.”

Rhodey raised an eyebrow at him. “And how often do you  _ see _ your therapist, Tony?”

Tony’s mouth gaped for a good second as he tried to form a response, “Err, you know, on the weekends, when I’m not busy. Once a week. Things come up sometimes though, and I can’t make it, have to reschedule and all, you know how it goes!”

“ _ Tony _ ,” He sure was hearing his own name an awful lot. Steve approached him, reaching out to subtly touch his arm. “We want to help you. We  _ can _ help you, if you just talk to us. We all know what you’re going through, we were all there for it. You’re not alone.”

This was so uncomfortable. Tony stared at him for a long moment before a tight-lipped smile appeared on his face. He reached out to give a reassuring pat to the soldier before he began to turn and leave. “Don’t worry about me, Miss America. I’ve gotten through it before, haven’t I?”

Rogers opened his mouth to say something, but shut it as Tony was quickly advancing towards the elevator. Steve gave a last glance behind him before following him, door shutting behind them. Tony let out a muffled sigh before mumbling instructions to FRIDAY to take him to his personal floor. Steve’s looming presence over him really wasn’t what he needed right now, but whatever the hell he was doing, it was best to get it over with.

His steps were as calm as he could manage, making a b-line for the bar. He could feel Steve’s eyes drilling into the back of his head. Steve only took a few steps out of the elevator before stopping at the entrance to the wide front room. His arms were crossed again, as if he was waiting for something to happen.

“Drink?” Tony offered, back turned to to him. After no response, he shrugged his shoulders and poured himself a big glass of whiskey. He didn’t turn to look at Rogers, instead moving to take a seat, leg beginning to bounce as soon as he sat down.

After a few good sips and nothing but absolute silence, Tony was starting to get frustrated. He threw up his arms, nearly spilling his drink. “Jesus christ, Cap, spit it out! Yell at me already! Say  _ something _ !”

“Tony, I know you feel guilty, and I get it. I get that you’re struggling with it even after the years it's been, and how this is only bringing it back up. I understand just how easy it is to slip back into it, but I think you need to be more responsible.”

Tony scoffed. “What the hell do you think I was doing? Sitting on my ass, waiting for someone to fix my mess for me? I thought even  _ you _ knew me better than that. I might’ve gotten a little overwhelmed, yeah, but I had FRIDAY searching every corner of New York. I was ready to jump up the  _ second _ that thing popped up, to fix what  _ I _ fucked up. And I  _ did _ .”

“I’m talking about before that.”

“What?”

“The reason that thing was in your lab in the first place.”

“Oh, what, I’m not allowed to do my own damn research? To do my  _ job _ , Rogers?”

“You could have done the research from here just as easy, Tony! And let’s be honest, that wasn’t you  _ working _ , that was a  _ distraction _ . You stick to that Tower like your life  _ depends _ on it. You hide yourself in your lab almost every day, working on project after project! It’s been  _ years _ , and-”

“Don’t you fucking finish that sentence.” Tony had sprung to life, slamming his drink on the table and spinning around as he stood up.

That made Steve shut up, if only for a second. “You need help, Tony. We all want to help you,  _ I _ want to help you, but that won’t matter unless you  _ try _ .”

Tony was shaking his head, hand moving to his hip and the other holding his head in disbelief. A laugh escaped him. “You think I’m  _ not _ trying? You think I  _ want _ to be a mess?”

“You barely see a therapist, and when you do, I'm sure you don’t even speak. You keep everything to yourself, Tony, that’s not trying to get better. That’s making it worse.”

The  _ nerve _ Steve Rogers had, following into his room, spewing all of this bullshit to him. Tony was trying every day of his stupid life to be anything but the absolute chaos that was himself. He tried so hard to fight it off, but it always won. It forced him into his terrible habits, and he had no control. Steve was blaming him for something he  _ couldn’t control _ .

A fire lit up inside of his chest, hands clenched into fists as he stared daggers into the other man. “Get out.”

Steve lingered a moment before backing away, his expression never changing from that look of  _ pity _ that made him want to punch his face in. Tony collapsed back into the chair after waiting for the faint sound of the doors closing. He wanted to pick up the glass and smash it against the wall, watch it break into a million pieces, but he decided against it. He didn’t feel like having to clean up another mess.

-

Peter’s eyes slowly opened to blinding lights. He let out a muffled groan as it only agitated the headache he seemed to already have. The touch of a cold hand against his arm made his heart jump out of his chest, and if he wasn’t still feeling the effects of being drugged, he would’ve flew straight out of that bed. Instead, he flinched so hard that it must have startled them as well, making them pull back. His eyes struggled to make sense of his surroundings, his brain so foggy all he could register was  _ fear _ .

“Sweetie, look at me,” A soft voice spoke. It took him a moment to focus on the source, making sense there was someone at his side, standing over him. That didn’t make him feel any better. “There’s no need to panic, you’re safe. You’re in the hospital. We’re taking good care of you.”

Peter looked at her as if she was speaking a language he didn’t understand. It was so hard to make sense of words right now. Her calming tone seemed to only have the opposite effect, only making him more panicked.

His eyes blearily drifted downward, falling on the arm she had touched. There was a bandage above its crease, and a tube exiting from underneath it. He suddenly became hyper-aware of everything that was touching his body. There were wires connected to his torso, his other arm had the same bandage as the other, his wrists had needles in them. Peter wanted  _ all  _ of it off of him. Now.

His other hand moved to his wrist in a quick motion, scrabbling at the tape that held them in place. The woman was just as quick to restrain him, which didn’t take that much in his state. “Don’t touch that.”

Peter’s delirious state didn’t allow the panic to set in immediately, rather slowly creep over him as his heart slowly picked up its pace. She seemed to take notice, most likely because of the monitor he was connected to, but Peter was too unaware to notice it among everything else that was going on. He couldn’t even hear the incessant beeping.

“Hey, hey,” She was trying to sound as gentle as possible. “Everything’s going to be alright, but you need to calm down, ok? Breathe with me...”

She inhaled deeply, holding it before letting it back out slowly. Peter could barely manage following her instructions, but after a few minutes of watching her face intently and making shallow attempts himself, he seemed to calm.

“My name is Helen Cho,” She introduced herself after assuring his heart rate was back to normal. “Can you tell me your name, sweetie?”

Peter stared at her for a long moment, only blinking in response before looking away. Why did she have to keep talking to him like that? It made his stomach turn. It didn’t feel right.

“That’s ok, you don’t have to tell me right now. When you’re feeling better, I’m sure we can talk. For now, you need to rest, ok?”

Resting sounded nice. If he wasn’t so out of it, he wouldn’t be able to sleep at all, the panic of being somewhere so unfamiliar with someone he didn’t know keeping him awake. But would it really matter if something happened to him? Of course it did, the thought  _ terrified _ him, but his mind wanted to tell him otherwise.

It didn’t take long for his exhaustion to find him again, laying there in silence as Helen continued monitoring the machines beside the bed. She only left the room after she had been certain he was sound asleep. Peter fell into a dreamless slumber.

-

The next time Peter awoke, the drugs had mostly worn off. His memory of previously waking up was hazy, but he remembered the woman, and definitely the fear. Helen wasn’t next to him anymore. Peter was alone in the room, sitting in the large hospital bed, machines, ones that he was still attached to, beeping at his side. The light in the room was still on, and still too bright. It made him squint his eyes and let out a huff.

It looked just like a typical hospital room. Plain, white walls, chairs sitting by the wide windows, a computer screen hiding behind the machines, a TV in the corner of the ceiling. The floor struck him as odd, however. It wasn’t the familiar white, plastic tiling or the grey, plastic, almost concrete in appearance typical flooring he would expect in a hospital. It was more like wooden flooring, which seemed far more fancy.

His eyes were drawn back to the windows. The blinds were slightly opened. It was impossible to tell the time, the sky covered in dull, grey clouds, which could mean anything. Peter sat up, stretching the get a better look outside. He couldn’t exactly stand up with IVs connected to him like they were.

Strange. It definitely didn’t look like New York city. The same feeling of panic was starting to build in his chest.

He could see outside to the front of the building through the windows, the field of grass before it fell away into the miles of forest that surrounded the compound. He could even make out hills in the distance, not a skyscraper in sight. Where the hell was he?

Peter’s brows furrowed as he tried to remember. How did he get here? When did he get here? What happened? His last memory was of the sewer, Coyote forcing him to drink between states of consciousness. Oh god, Coyote.

“...Coyote?” His voice was a whisper, speaking only to himself. He knew Coyote could sense his thoughts, but something didn’t feel right. Peter’s heart began pounding in his chest as he waited for a response that never came.

Oh god.  _ Ohgodohgodohgod _ . He was in a  _ hospital _ . What if they found out about him? What if they did something to Coyote? What if… What if he was gone? Tears were starting to sting behind his eyes at the thought. Why did it make him so upset?

No… No, that couldn’t happen. He had said something about hibernation before, didn’t he? Using too much energy? He couldn’t have  _ left _ . Peter would be dead right now if he was.

_ I would be dead right now if he was gone _ . The realization eased his heart. The scientist Coyote had been attached to before, she had died when he switched bodies. If Coyote left his body, the same would happen to him.

But it still made him feel sick in the back of his throat, knowing Coyote still wasn’t exactly  _ there _ . He guessed he had just hadn’t noticed it all that much, but when Coyote was around, he could feel him in the back of his mind. Now, it was silent. And god, did it feel so lonely.

The door to the room swung open, making Peter jump. He recognized one of the people that walked in, Dr. Cho, although he didn’t know the man with her. He looked sweet, but his presence still made Peter shrivel back. Although he was one, he didn’t feel all that comfortable around men.

“Good morning, how are you feeling?” She smiled at him, heels clicking as she approached with clipboard in hand.

“I’m… Ok.” Peter was hesitant to speak. He was feeling better, like he could actually move without passing out. Although his headache was getting worse the longer he stayed awake, now a painful throbbing against his skull.

“That’s good. You seem to be recovering just fine, thankfully.” Helen seemed to notice him wince. “Feeling some pain?”

“My head is killing me.” He brought up his hand, pushing the palm against his forehead in an attempt to dull the pain.

“That’s alright, I can administer some pain medicine for you. It should start working within the next half hour.” Placing the clipboard on the desk, she moved closer to Peter’s side, replacing the IV bag and fiddling with something else he didn’t see.

The man that joined them had been staying silent, fiddling with his hands behind his back, watching in silence. He took a step closer, taking the chance to speak while Dr. Cho busied herself. He held out a hand for Peter to shake. “My name’s Bruce Banner, maybe you’ve, uh, heard that name before?”

No, Peter had not. The name didn’t click with him, although now he got a clearer look at his face, something inside him didn’t sit right. He didn’t return the handshake, and shook his head in response. Bruce pulled his hand back, stuffing it in his lab coat pocket.

“I’m a biochemist.” To be honest, Peter wasn’t even sure what that was. He remained quiet, which clearly unsettled the man. Did he expect him to say something to that? “Do you have a name we can call you, miss?”

_ Ouch _ . They could see right through it, huh? Peter knew he looked like a girl, but he hoped it was confusing enough to not be called  _ miss _ . His eyes squinted as he looked back up at the man.

“Peter.” He couldn’t blame him for not knowing, he guessed, but it still didn’t stop him from getting a little pissed.

“Right, uh, Peter…?”

“Peter Parker.”

“And where are your parents, Peter?”

“Dead.” Peter didn’t miss a beat, although his heart skipped as he said the single word. Bruce shot a side-glance to Helen before returning the eye contact.

“Any relatives? Who do you live with? It’s important for us to get in contact with them.”

“No.” Peter swallowed, and apparently took too long to finish his thought before Bruce pressed him.

“No…? No, what, relatives? Any trusted friends, then? Who are you living with? This is important, Peter.”

Did he think he was lying? “No one. No where.” He took a long pause between statements, now avoiding looking at the older man.

“Alright…” Bruce said with a sigh. Of course he thought he was lying, it did sound quite unbelievable. But it was just the sad truth. “Well, Peter, we’re looking into your situation. We’re glad that you’re feeling better already. When To- When you were brought in, you were in quite a bad way.”

Peter blinked, remembering something. His eyes lifted up to the windows again. “Where am I?”

There was a silence that made his chest tighten. The two doctors were giving each other a long, uneasy look behind him, which he was unaware of. His eyes didn’t move from where the sat, watching the trees sway in the wind outside.

“Peter,” Dr. Cho spoke up now. “We’re aware that you may have fallen into an unfortunate circumstance. You might be scared, and that’s ok, it’s normal to feel that way in this situation.”

So they knew.

“We’re working hard on correcting it, and in the meantime we’ll have to keep a close watch on you. We aren’t sure how long you’ll be here for, but you’re perfectly safe, I assure you.”

Wasn’t it the other way around? If Coyote was awake, it would probably be them in danger. Peter had no idea when he would wake up. He told Peter we was awoken before because he had been threatened, was this not the same? Didn’t he feel his panic?

“So I’m… A prisoner here? Wherever  _ here _ is?”

“No, of course not. Once you’ve recovered well enough to leave Medbay, you’ll have your own accommodations in the building. We just have to be careful, in case something happens.”

“Accomodations...? Isn’t this a hospital?” Peter looked her in the eye, confused and definitely panicking again.

Dr. Cho shook her head. “You’re in the Avengers Facility, Peter.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope this isnt too short :' )
> 
> here you can see the process of me beginning to heavily project onto peter! yeehaw!  
> things peter experiences in this chapters are from my very own  
> peter does not have his spidey-senses or something similar. he had good ol fashioned Paranoia
> 
> hope yall enjoy! im trying so hard!!!
> 
> ps When An AI Doesnt Misgender You  
> pss more name drops of companies and also good netflix shows (of course it would be st)(yall should watch sense8 tho)
> 
> psss oh my god the part where friday is explaining things to peter. that was a pain

Peter’s eyes widened, blinking in shock. This was suddenly far more serious than he thought, and  _ definitely _ connected to Coyote. After all, he did  _ eat _ a police officer, and had to guess he must have killed the other two. Peter wasn’t sure about the details, as he wasn’t exactly present while it happened, and he  _ really _ didn’t want to ask. He didn’t like the thought of possibly being a murderer. Sure, Coyote was just trying to protect him, but it was… Excessive to go that far. He really hadn’t had the time to stop and think about this until now.  _ Shit _ , how much trouble was he in?

Everything was happening way too fast, and Peter simply couldn’t keep track of it all. The canyon that stood between him and reality threatened to swallow him whole. His eyes looked downward, fixating on the form of his body under the thin bed sheets. Was this even real? It’s getting harder to breathe again.

“You’ll be well taken care of here, Peter.” The woman continued, an attempt at reassurance. It didn’t work.

He did not feel safe here. He needed to leave. They knew about Coyote, and they said they were going to “fix it.” Peter didn’t have to be a genius to know what they meant by that. And as many problems he had caused ever since they became attached, the thought of them “fixing” him didn’t feel right. It was a very conflicting feeling that he didn’t exactly understand.

As the silence stretched on, Dr. Cho and Bruce exchanged nods, the man taking initiative to exit the room first.

“We’ll leave you to rest for now. I don’t suppose you’ll feel like sleeping, but I advise you should try. However, if you can’t, feel free to ask FRIDAY to turn the TV on for you. And call for me if you need me, ok?” She smiled.

“Who…?” By the time Peter spoke up to ask, the doctor had already been half-way out the door, not hearing his question. He nearly jumped out of his skin when an unseen voice responded.

“ _ Hello, Mr. Parker. _ ”

“H-Hello?” His eyes searched the room.

“ _ Hello, _ ” The voice repeated. “ _ My name is FRIDAY, I’m an AI created by Tony Stark to work as his personal assistant and technical operator of the Avengers Facility. Boss has advised me to help with any questions you may have, and assist you in any way I can. _ ”

“Okay…” Peter breathed, the sudden fear ebbing. He eased back into the pillows that propped him up. He really wished he had these damn needles out of him by now. Ah, perfect first question. “When can I get this shit out of me?”

“ _ Dr. Helen Cho is uncertain about removing your IVs at this moment, but you if your path to relative quick recovery continues, I estimate they will be gone by tomorrow morning. After then I will continue monitoring your vitals myself until you’re proven to be in a stable enough condition to leave the Medbay. _ ”

“Who is Helen Cho?”

“ _ Helen Cho is a world-renowned geneticist and leader of the U-GIN Research Group, a company that works in the field of advanced bioengineering. She has been working closely with the Avengers for quite some time, given the specific care required for some of its members. _ ”

Peter was finding the confidence to speak now, the fact he was talking to an AI and not a person that could stare him down probably being a big factor. “Who are the Avengers?”

“ _ The Avengers are a team of extraordinary individuals that protect the world from local and otherworldly threats. They are affiliated with SHIELD, an extra-governmental military counter-terrorism and intelligence agency. Its current member list consists of Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Bruce Banner, Thor, Clint Barton, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Vision, James Rhodes, and Sam Wilson, who all have residence in the compound. _ ”

“Tony Stark…” Peter echoed “Your ‘boss?’ Do you call him that or does he make you?”

Peter didn’t recognize any of the other names listed, but he did know Tony Stark, of course. Even without being that connected with the world, it was kind of hard to ignore all the towers he had across the city of New York.

“ _ Yes, he’s the one I refer to as Boss. Although Mr. Stark created me himself, it was myself that came up with the term during test runs. He’s the one that brought you here. Dr. Cho believes if you had arrived any later, you may have died. _ ”

Ok, that was kinda blunt. And not really what he had asked. Was she even  _ allowed _ to tell him that?

_ Maybe I should have. _

What? Shut up.

There was a long silence from Peter after that. His eyes had lowered to the sheets again, tracing along his torso and down to his legs. The disconnect, abruptly hitting him once again, felt like a humming that grew louder inside his skull as every second stretched on. Peter’s eyes blinked on their own, pulling him out of it long enough to avert his gaze back to the room.

It felt like time had suddenly sped up, the quiet, aside from the noise of machines, seeming out of nowhere and intensely unsettling. The conversation he had just held with FRIDAY seemed forever ago in his mind, but in reality, only a minute had passed.

He shook himself, trying to brush off what had just happened as quickly as it went.

Moving his gaze across the room, he took everything in once again, before it settled on the corner of the room. There was a wide TV bolted into the corner of the wall, in a position where he could lay back and not worry about craning his neck to see. Right, the doctor had said something about turning it on if he couldn’t rest. The past days had been  _ full _ of nothing but rest. It wouldn’t hurt to stay awake, you know, like a normal, functioning person would do.

“FRIDAY, can you turn on the TV?”

“ _ Of course. What would you like to watch? _ ”

The TV clicked on to a random channel it had previously been on. It was in the middle of an uninteresting drama show, the women in frame wearing old-fashioned dresses. God, Peter couldn’t remember the last time he had watched TV. What even  _ was _ there to watch?

“What’s on right now?”

“ _ I have access to nearly all channels and streaming services, Mr. Parker. Although, Boss believes you might enjoy channel sixty-one, sixty-two, sixty-three, or sixty-four. Would you like to watch one of those? _ ”

“What?” How would he have  _ any _ idea what Peter would want to watch? “What - What channels are those?”

“ _ Animal Planet, Cartoon Network, Nickelodeon, and Disney Channel respectively. _ ”

_ Oh, I get it. Hilarious. _

“No, I’m not interested.” He rolled his eyes. “You said you have streaming services? Can I watch Netflix? I’ve heard about some of the shows on there, always wanted to watch them but I - I never had the time.”

Peter paused, making up a small lie. He remembered his situation and who he was talking to. Why did he so easily get so swept away? Not like it  _ mattered _ , he  _ told _ them he was homeless, but something inside forced him to lie anyway.

“ _ Of course. _ ” The TV clicked, loading up the Netflix logo before coming to the profile screen. There was only one profile named “Guest.” Of course, this was the Avengers compound, they had all the money they could ever want! They could afford paying for a guest-only account. And they all probably had their own separate accounts too. Peter bit his lip, a sense of envy rising to the surface. Not because they  _ had _ the service, but because they could  _ afford _ to spend the money on it.

“ _ What title were you thinking of? _ ”

“Uh…” He was pulled out from his bitter thoughts. There were quite a few shows he’d seen on social media he thought looked interesting. He suddenly felt pressured to make a choice, so he blurted out the first that came to mind. “Sense8…? It looked interesting.”

There was a pause. “ _ That rating for that title is TV-MA, suggesting audiences of seventeen or younger many not be suitable to watch. I’m afraid I cannot play it for you, Mr. Parker. _ ”

Seriously?

“Okay, uh, how about Stranger Things?”

The screen came to life, taking a moment to flick between menus before the AI played the first episode without a word.

Peter let out a sigh. Was he really going to be treated like a child here?

-

Peter quickly became fascinated as he watched episode after episode, the hours passing by like mere seconds. He readjusted from his weird position in the hospital bed every now and then. He wanted to curl up in a nice comfortable ball against the pillows, but with all the needles, that was simply impossible. He was forced to lay with his arms laying out next to him, holding them up to his chest was safe, but it felt too uncomfortable to manage.

A knock at the door drew away his attention from the screen. No response was necessary as the person entered not a second later, a large tray of food with handles attached to its side in hand. It was another man, one with a face that he vaguely recognized, although couldn’t put a finger on. He obviously wasn’t a doctor, wearing a nice, dark suit instead of the bright coats Dr. Cho or Bruce Banner wore.

He approached with a smile. Peter could feel his gut twist as he heard the door close behind the man, no one else entering alongside him.

“Tony Stark,” He introduced himself briefly, seemingly expecting some kind of response as he paused for a little too long. Why did they keep doing that? What the hell did they expect him to say? “I brought you your dinner. Figured you had to be starving, am I right?”

“Fri, can you pause that for me?” He turned his attention to the TV for a moment, muttering a “thanks” as the show abruptly stopped. The room turned painfully quiet.

Peter hesitated before nodding in response to his previous question, prompting Tony to approach and place the tray over his legs, the bars holding it up over him. The sudden closeness made his whole body tense and subtly curl in on itself, not even his eyes daring to move until the man backed away. He observed the rather full plate of food, stomach growling at the sight. He had indeed been hungry, but after years of used to going without, the feeling became familiar and it was easier to ignore.

“No idea what food you like to eat, but you can’t go wrong with a steak dinner in my book. Had a personal chef of mine make it himself, the guy hasn’t let me down with a meal  _ once _ , so quality is definitely assured.” Tony moved across the room towards the chairs, taking one from its place to move it closer to Peter before sitting down. “Go ahead, don’t mind me,”

Eating in front of other people was very uncomfortable for Peter. He didn’t understand it, but it always stressed him out. In this situation however, he didn’t feel like he had a choice to say no, so he picked up a piece of broccoli and awkwardly put it in his mouth. Tony gave him a strange look, but didn’t comment.

“So,  _ Peter _ …” Tony started, “That is your name, correct?”

Peter could feel his chest tighten. “Yes,”

“Seems you’ve met FRIDAY,” He gestured back to the TV, “What do you think?”

“What?”

“What do you think?” Tony echoed, taking a second to realize he should restate the question given Peter’s continued confused look, “Do you like her? She’s treating you well, right?” He grinned.

“Oh, yeah, she’s nice… She’s cool, I mean,” God, why was Peter so nervous? He couldn’t even look the man in the face.

“Just ‘cool?’ Huh, ok…” Tony tapped a finger on his chin, “Would expect a little more than ‘cool’ to describe a multi-million dollar AI, but sure,  _ cool _ .”

A long silence. Again, was he expecting Peter to say something?

Suddenly, Tony clapped his hand over his knee, the sound making Peter flinch. If he noticed, Peter wouldn’t have known, still avoiding looking at the man and intently studying his food.

“Well, I just dropped by to introduce myself, didn’t want to bother you too much. Helen told me you should be resting still, so, uh, I’ll let you get back to it, yeah?” He got back on his feet, the chair scooching back slightly as he stood. “Don’t be afraid to let Fri know if you need something, anything at all! And if it concerns Ms. Cho, she can get her for you no problem.”

Peter managed another quiet nod, giving enough of a side-glance to Tony as he left the room to see him wave. As the door drifted closed with a click, Peter felt like he could finally breathe again. Letting out a long sigh, his elbows came up to rest on the tray, hands digging into his hair. That felt  _ so _ stressful.

It took him a moment to recover, but Peter eventually settled back down, resting back into the pillows. He picked up the fork that had been sitting at the side, and slowly starting to pick at the meat. He wasn’t even sure if he felt hungry anymore, but he forced it down anyways. He would simply be stupid if he refused a meal like this.

“Hey, Fri?” Peter’s voice was bashfully quiet as he addressed the AI by the nickname. It sounded cute, and he decided he wanted to try to use it.

“Yes, Mr. Parker?” She didn’t seem phased by the change.

“Can you play the show?”

“Of course.” He could almost hear the smile in her voice.

Peter slowly came to a full stop at his attempt to eat, the show taking his full attention once again. He spent the next few hours that way, contently laying there, forgetting everything around him for the brief moment. It was nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> peter IS a little shit but at the moment hes a nervous wreck. writing is hard


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow! my longest chapter ive written so far! peter is a mess!!!!!!!!  
> hope i didnt miss anything i should tag? i rewrote this chapter a few times so idk if i missed something. hopefully not

The next few days were more peaceful - well, as peaceful as being held against your will by the Avengers can get. There weren’t any other unexpected visitors, and Tony didn’t visit again. He was silently grateful. Dr. Cho checked up on his regularly, as well as Bruce accompanying her occasionally. Peter slowly got used to his presence, not enough to completely dull his caution, but the man seemed nice enough and didn’t send him into a panic.

When Peter had gotten the IVs removed he felt a wave of relief. He had only spent a single conscious day having to deal with them, but it was enough to be extremely uncomfortable. Now he could actually lay  _ comfortably _ in the bed, curled up on his side as he enjoyed watching more of his new favorite show. Peter nearly blew through the whole first season before he eventually passed out, FRIDAY thankfully pausing in the near exact place he left off from.

That was how he spent most of his time for the next couple of days, laying in bed, watching his show, having meals brought to him by some new person - a nurse maybe? He didn’t exactly know, but she introduced herself as Sonja. She was maybe a little too smiley, making their brief conversation kind of awkward, but it was bearable.

Peter continued conversing with FRIDAY at random intervals, not about anything that was exactly important, just random things. He seemed to be getting more comfortable with her, at least. Whenever an actual person entered the room and tried to speak to him, he seemed to instantly clam up, only getting out a couple of words if they were lucky.

He didn’t understand it, but then again, Peter had a difficult time understanding much.

As distracted as he was, Peter had not once forgotten about Coyote. The emptiness in his chest was hard to ignore. It  _ frustrated _ him. Why does it feel so wrong? The thing was a  _ nuisance _ , it caused him nothing but more problems! He tried to  _ kill _ him when they first met, then he went on to _ kill three people _ , and was the reason Peter got  _ sick _ in the first place! Shouldn’t he be glad it’s gone?

Thinking about it made his chest ache, having to move a hand over it as he felt his heart skip from the influx of stress.  _ You always have to be difficult, don’t you? _

A tap at the door pulled him away. Sonja entered not a second later, a smile plastered on her face. Her glasses reflected the sunlight as she moved, blinding Peter momentarily. She held what appeared to be a set of clothes in her hands. “Hi, sweetie, how are you feeling?”

“Good,” He muttered.

“That’s good to hear.” The woman stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. He wanted to flinch away, but managed to stay still. “How do you feel about moving into your room today? I’ve got a change of clothes for you to wear, wouldn’t be fitting to walk around in a hospital gown, would it?”

He didn’t have a response, but she continued anyway.

“Dr. Cho gave you the all clear today, but of course, FRIDAY will still be monitoring you for us. And I’ve been assigned as your caretaker, so don’t worry, I’ll be right there with you, ok?”

It was of  _ some _ comfort, the tiniest sliver perhaps, that he wouldn’t be forced somewhere else new on his own. His eyes moved to the clothes she placed on his lap, a simple outfit of a red sweater and black pants. There was a clack against the floor, and with a glance over the rail he saw a pair of house shoes she sat down for him.

“I’ll let you get dressed, just come out to the hallway when you’re ready, alright?”

Sonja waited for Peter to nod before exiting the room, giving him one last smile before the door closed. He was slow to get up, picking up the clothes in his hands as he moved. His bare feet felt freezing against the floor as he stood, so he quickly slipped on the shoes. He plodded over to the bathroom to change in private, slipping on the clothes before looking at himself in the mirror.

It didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel like he was looking at himself, it felt like he was staring at a complete stranger. A stranger that looked like  _ shit _ . Peter cautiously moved his arms, the reflected movement faintly scaring him. It felt slow, like someone was standing _ behind _ the mirror, copying him instead of it being  _ his _ reflection. The longer he stared, the more freaked out it made him feel.

He spun around and left the bathroom, letting out an exhale as the door shut behind him. He stood there for a moment, taking in the room around him. As horrible as everything was, Peter tried to enjoy being taken care of the past few days. It wasn’t like he could  _ escape _ , really, as much as his mind screamed at him to. At least not on his own. He felt like he was now buying his time until Coyote’s return, then  _ maybe _ , just maybe, they could get the hell out of here somehow. But Peter had no idea when he would wake up again, if even at all…

It didn’t feel very safe here. Everytime someone approached him he wanted to scream. Maybe they had good intentions, they did bring him back from near  _ death _ after all, but none of it settled right. They didn’t exactly care about him, they cared about the thing that was stuck inside of him. The thing they wanted to remove from him, but he wasn’t sure he wanted them to. They didn’t seem to have all the answers just yet, as what he could gather from Dr. Cho’s vague explanation on the situation, but Peter knew he had to get out of here before they did.

He swallowed the lump forming in his throat before approaching the door leading out of the room, pulling it open as it creaked. Sonja looked up from where she stood against the wall, straightening herself up, a soft smile as she looked him up and down.

“Looks great on you!” She commented, an attempt at making him crack a smile for once. “Now, follow me, the Avengers personal complex is across the compound. We’ll have to walk a distance, but it’ll be well worth it to see where you’ll be staying.”

Peter followed closely behind in silence as they walked through the hallways. Quite a few people passed by as they made their way through the building, and Peter peaked through the occasional window-framed door. All this staffing, just for this one part of the Avengers compound?

Sonja continued talking, but it was mostly background noise to him. She was vaguely explaining the building and how it worked, what everyone’s jobs were here and such. She explained that the personal complex had its own Medbay as well, but the reason he hadn’t been kept there was apparently because it wasn’t “as equipped.” Peter thought that seemed a little strange, but he wasn’t going to ask. What was the point of it having its own Medbay if it wasn’t just as good?

As they stepped out of the building and into the massive courtyard, the cold Autumn air was quick to hit him. Peter wrapped an arm around his middle, and held the sleeve of his sweater over his face before the cold could reach his nose. He  _ hated _ the feeling of a cold nose.

His gaze had been kept to his feet, watching the ground in front of him, not trusting himself to somehow manage not tripping over his own feet if he didn’t stare them down. However, a nudge from the woman in his side pulled his eyes up, widening as the building loomed in front of them. It was quite big, multiple floors lined with _ so _ many, maybe too many, windows, with the massive Avengers symbol plastered on its side. The front of the building was surrounded by a tended garden that would soon be abandoned for winter, the vibrant flowers that sat in neat rows sadly folding over themselves, wilting in the cold.

Entering the building, he expected there to be about as many people roaming around as the previous building, but there was no one to meet them as they walked through the doors. It was eerily quiet.

They wordlessly stepped to the elevators, having a just as quiet ascent, before they exited into another hallway. Turning the corner, Peter grew nervous as they approached a doorway, leading into what appeared to be a large living room of sorts. There were couches sitting near the windows, couches and chairs in another corner surrounding a massive TV, and in the middle a kitchen area. Stepping into the room felt  _ suffocating _ . Again, Peter had expected at least someone else to be there when they entered, but it was surprisingly vacant.

“Some of them aren’t here right now, the others were informed of your arrival, and wanted to give you some space. They’re usually in and out of here though, and you’re welcome to come here whenever you like, too, since you’ll be on the same floor.” Sonja smiled as they paused to view the room.

Peter felt his skin crawl. Of course they knew he would be there, it only made sense, but the thought still managed to freak him out. He didn’t like knowing he was  _ known _ . Especially by this group of people.

She continued to guide him across the room and down a different hallway, before stopping in front of a door. Sonja pulled out a key from her coat, fiddling with the lock before swinging the door open. She motioned for him to enter first, which he hesitantly complied.

The room felt just as big as the common room, and definitely far bigger than the hospital room he was in before. A table lined one wall, a large TV standing right above it, a desk near the window next to it. There was a resting area with a coffee table and a couch between the bed and window on the other wall, a door behind him he assumed led to his own bathroom, and a large sliding door that he had to only guess led to a closet. A bed sat against the opposite wall, nightstands on each side adorned with lamps, and another table sitting between it and the TV. Various items sat on the table, some of them in bags. Peter cautiously approaching, glancing back at Sonja with a silent question.

“A few gifts from the Avengers,” She explained, “They knew you might be here a while, so they wanted to make sure you’re comfortable. You can look at them now or wait until I’m gone.”

“Um…” Peter managed to speak after a pause. “Where are you staying?”

“Oh, I won’t be far, don’t worry! Just a few floors down.”

“What if I need you for something?” He didn’t like the thought of having to approach one of the  _ Avengers _ just to ask to see her.

“You’ll ask FRIDAY, of course! She’s here, too,”

“Oh…” Peter felt dumb, he should’ve known that. For someone that was smart enough to hide from the cops he sure was fucking  _ stupid _ . That made him feel better though, knowing Fri was still there.

“Well, I’ll let you get settled in! I’ve been asked to let you know dinner will be ready by seven, if you feel up for it. If not, I don’t mind bringing it to you.” Sonja carefully patted him on the shoulder before she moved to leave, turning back around before touching the handle, “I’ll be checking up on you often, but if you need me at any time, don’t be afraid to ask, ok?”

“Ok,” He confirmed, awkwardly crossing his arms. The woman simply nodded before leaving.

Yeah, no way in hell would he be joining them for dinner, like this was somehow the most casual thing ever. Why even bother pretending to like him, anyway? They didn’t have to pity him, the last thing he needed was the  _ Avengers’ pity _ . It was pointless. He wasn’t going to be here long one way or another, Peter was going to make sure of that, somehow. And until then, he was going to stubbornly hole himself up in here.

Peter nervously tapped against his chin, glancing back to the bags sitting on the table. What was this, early Christmas? He didn’t need their gifts. Passing the table, his legs carried him over to the bed where he sat down, eyes still carefully scanning the room. This all felt weird, and awful, and just way too much. He really wished he had his phone so he could listen to his music. Maybe then he could calm down. He hoped it had been left in the sewers along with his backpack, and not lost somewhere where it would’ve probably been stolen by now.

He let his body fall back with a  _ fwump _ into the clean sheets. “Hey, Fri…?” Peter didn’t expect his voice to come out so quiet, but it seemed the AI had no problem hearing him anyway.

“ _ Yes, Mr. Parker? _ ”

“You can play music, right?”

“ _ Of course, I have access to local radio stations, multiple music streaming services, and a personal archive of various songs boss implemented for himself. _ ”

“Huh…” He pondered for a moment. “What kind of music does he listen to?”

“ _ The songs boss specifically requests to play from the playlist most often come from the bands AC/DC, Guns N’ Roses, and Nickelback. He seems to favor the rock genre, although there’s an occasional pop song in the mix. _ ”

Peter shook his head, disinterested. He didn’t listen to rock music that much, not that he didn’t like it, it was nice sometimes, but he didn’t feel in the mood. It definitely seemed to fit the man though, Tony Stark looked like the kind of man to listen to rock music. However, it did seem like  _ all _ men listened to it, maybe it was a weird masculinity thing.

“Can you just play the pop songs for me? At low volume,” He quickly added, fearing the possibility it would be too loud through the walls.

“ _ Of course. _ ”

A song began softly playing through the speaks, one Peter recognized from the band Imagine Dragons. It was a weird thought for Mr. Stark to listen to pop music, but this seemed fitting. For a moment it felt kind of weird, like he was snooping through his personal possessions somehow, even though it was only music. He didn’t feel like asking for his own specific band though. The thought was almost embarrassing, _ somehow _ .

-

Peter laid like that for the rest of the day, listening to the collection of Tony’s music until it began to repeat. He then decided to switch it up, having FRIDAY tune into a random radio station. It played more modern music, his type of music, so he was content with it, and the in between chatter of the talk hosts didn’t bother him.

Time must have passed, quicker than Peter thought, as soon enough Sonja was bringing him his dinner. She said something as she sat it down on his nightstand, but he wasn’t paying attention, making her hesitate before deciding to give him space. He was grateful she didn’t try to bother him further.

More time must have flown by, and Peter must have dozed off at some point, as he was slowly blinking back awake. The lights in the room were dim, and the music seemed to be playing even softer. Fri must have turned it down at some point.

He lazily rolled over on the bed, arm slapping against the plate and nearly knocking it over. The sudden clanking scared him wide awake, making him shoot up straight. It took him a moment to realize what had happened before he managed to calm down. He’d completely forgotten about the food before he passed out, the realization he was  _ starving _ sinking in as his stomach growled. It was definitely cold by now, though, maybe the kitchen he saw earlier had a microwave? What time was it, anyway?

“Fri?” Peter rubbed the sleep from his eye as he stood, grabbing the plate with his other hand, “What time is it?”

“ _ 2:17 in the morning, Mr. Parker. _ ”

Huh. He slept longer than he thought he did, but maybe that was a good thing. No one would probably be in the common room this time of night. That worry had briefly flashed through his mind a moment ago, but now it eased off.

He slipped on his shoes, feet sliding against the floor in his half-awake state as he slowly tried to wake up. Opening the door, Peter peaked out his head into the hallway, cautiously looking both ways. No one was there. Did they stay on this floor, anyway? Or did they have their own floors? Was this sort of just a general floor for the common room and such, and the rooms were guest rooms? But Sonja said she was staying a few floors down, so… It didn’t make much sense. He decided he wasn’t going to think about it.

After reassuring himself he was alone, he stepped out of the room, careful to shut the door behind him as quiet as possible. His eyes glanced behind him as he walked through the hall every so often, paranoia creeping into him. It was quiet except for the sliding of his shoes and the occasional clink of silverware against the plate as he shuffled along with it.

Peter paused again as he stood in the doorway to the large room, cautiously eyeing his surrounding. No one was around, but from the pile of plates he could see peeking out of the sink, people had clearly been here earlier.

He approached the kitchen, placing the plate onto the island counter that stood between him and the rest of the room. There was a microwave sitting right above the sink, nestled into the cabinets. Removing the silverware and placing it to the side, Peter placed the plate into the microwave and closed it before lingering as he looked at the buttons. There was so many of them, he didn’t know  _ what _ to press. Is was just a stupid microwave, did it really have to be this complex?

“Need some help with that?”

The voice made him jump, freezing in place as Peter turned to see Tony Stark standing in the doorway of the elevator hall. He probably looked just as terrified as he felt, which he cursed himself for, because the man’s bemused expression quickly melted into a concerned, almost apologetic look.

“No,” He spun back around, eyes fixing back on the buttons.

“You sure?” Peter could hear his footsteps approaching from behind. “I don’t even know why I bought that thing. It’s nothing but a pain in the ass, really, I can’t even figure it out myself sometimes.”

“I’ve got it,” He mumbled, reaching out to fumble with the buttons. Tony came to a stop next to him, reaching into the cabinets for whatever he had came here for, he assumed. There was a silence that made him panic, feeling the man’s stare on him which made his attempts to get the damn thing to work futile.

“Here,” Tony stepped closer to him, making Peter’s hand drop to his side, gaze averted downwards. He could feel cold panic washing over him. There was a couple of short beeps as buttons were pressed before the microwave hummed to life.

Tony backed off after that, but Peter could still feel his curious eyes on him. He struggled to control the sudden panic before he could even manage to look in his direction. When Peter looked over at him, Tony was pouring himself a big cup of hot coffee. When had that happened?

He watched him walk around the counter, hopping up to sit on one of the stools on the other side, facing Peter as he took a sip of his drink. Peter really wished the microwave would beep already so he had an excuse to leave.

“So, uh… How are you feeling? You didn’t show for dinner.” Peter shrugged. “It’s not like you had to, and no one would force you too, but I know Wanda was looking forward to meeting you.”

Who?

“Sorry,” The apology escaped his lips before he could catch it. Peter hoped it was too quiet for him to catch, but of course, it wasn’t.

“No worries, kid, like I said, there’s no pressure. Just kind of warning you, really, if you happen to run into her.” Tony let out a weak chuckle before taking another sip. “As long as you’re here, the invitation is always there for you to join us. We usually get together for breakfast as well, and lunch too, if we can. But I promise not to take it personally if you don’t show.”

Peter was aware he was trying to joke to make the situation a little less awkward, but it really wasn’t working. Thankfully, the microwave beeped just in time, and he jumped at the chance to exit the conversation.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark. I’m going back to my room now.” He announced bluntly, hastily taking the plate and silverware in his hands before retreating from the room.

Tony was left by himself at the counter, blinking in confusion at the sudden exit.

“Rather formal…” He commented to himself before turning back to his coffee.

-

Peter all but slammed the door behind him, wincing at just how loud it was. He let out a long breath, discarding the food on the table in the middle of the room before moving back to the bed. Suddenly, he didn’t feel so hungry anymore. He curled into the blankets, pulling them over his head. His chest  _ hurt _ .

“ _ Mr. Parker? Your vitals are showing an increased heart rate, would you like me to contact Dr. Bougher? _ ”

“No,” He managed to breathe out through his tightening throat.

Peter felt like he was choking. He could feel the tears burning at the back of his eyes, and he could do nothing to stop it as they began to spill through. At first they merely dripped down his cheek as he tried to get a hold of himself, but it was quick to escalate into gross, full-on sobbing. He pushed his face further into the sheets, muffling his cries. God, what was his  _ problem _ ?

There was a multitude of emotions welling up in his chest, so many that it overwhelmed him, and all he could do was cry even harder. He felt like a baby and he  _ hated _ himself. He was so pathetic, was he really crying just because the man had gotten a little too close? Who does that?

All Peter could focus on was the  _ emotions _ . Everything felt so wrong. He was terrified, he was in danger, he had to run, he was frozen, he was  _ powerless _ . Then there was guilt, and shame, and  _ disgust _ , and the confusion of it all only further hurt his screaming brain.

Where was Coyote? Why wasn’t he here? Didn’t he wake up before because he was in danger? Why isn’t he waking up  _ now _ ? It really showed just how pathetic Peter was, desperately clinging on to the first person to show him a sliver of kindness. Even if that person was some weird fucking alien.

This feeling was all too familiar. Desperately crying out for someone to help him, but there was no response. He was thrown back to being a kid again, crying and screaming for the attention and love of his parents, for them to  _ help him _ . The crying turning into silent breakdowns in the privacy of his room away from their hateful eyes, into the overwhelming numbness, the giving up for any hope of being  _ saved _ . His parents  _ hated _ what they had created in Peter, a sad, broken child that wanted nothing but love and didn’t know how to show it proper. So they gave up on him, and Peter gave up on himself.

“Peter?” A familiar voice pulled him back, his entire body freezing in place.  _ Why was Tony Stark in his room? _

“You alright, bud?”

Peter carefully shifted under the blanket, pulling his knees up to his chest in an embrace. His heart was pounding out of his chest so hard he could almost hear it.

“FRIDAY showed me your vitals, she said you didn’t need your doctor, so…” An awkward pause. He could hear Tony clicking his tongue. Thankfully, the man was smart enough not to approach. Peter didn’t think his heart could handle him standing so close again.

“You don’t have to talk, not if you don’t want to,” Tony was careful with his words. “I don’t blame you, this whole situation is quite a lot for a kid. But you don’t have to be scared of us. None of us want to hurt you, in fact we want to  _ opposite _ ,”

“I’m sorry if I, uh, scared you back there, and I’m sorry for barging in like this. I just needed to make sure you were ok. Promise I’ll knock next time.”

Peter let out a sudden breathe, one that was a little too loud and weary, giving away the fact he was obviously crying under there.  _ Pathetic. _

“Try to eat before you go back to bed, ok? Maybe you should try joining us tomorrow, meet the gang, see they aren’t all that bad, yeah?” He could hear Tony’s shoes clicking against the floor as he moved to the door, pausing as it swung open before disappearing into the hallway.

Peter cautiously pulled away the blanket from his head after he heard the door carefully click shut, taking in a deep breathe. He felt like he had been suffocating under them with Tony standing there. He was a little calmer now, the tears immediately came to a halt when he had first heard his voice, but it was still a little difficult to catch his breath. He mostly felt exhausted, and like his head was trying to kill him after so suddenly bursting into tears.

Peter shifted in the bed, laying flat on his back, staring straight up at the ceiling. He really didn’t feel like getting up to eat. Even if he tried he would only get a nibble of it down, so it didn’t matter. His appetite had died the moment he saw Tony in the doorway.

“Fri, music?” He asked, voice slightly slurred and eyes already closing. He was way too tired to attempt a full sentence.

The AI complied in silence. The soft hum of music began to fill the room, lulling Peter into an almost immediate slumber. A not very peaceful one, but slumber nonetheless.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to my fic where peter does nothing but sleep! this is fine.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *crying while peace emoji tiktok* i wrote the first part while i was sick so if it barely makes sense then You Know!  
> i really just write whatever and then pick it up as i go along. sometimes i rewrite but this got so far i went with it.  
> i'm trying to write longer chapters!

The days slipped by. After the rather one-sided conversation with Tony Stark, Peter stubbornly holed himself up in his room. His meals were brought to him by caretaker, who pestered him with questions, but eventually she would give in, and give him his space. That was all he wanted.

He refused to even entertain the idea of joining them for a meal, there was no point in it. It was a waste of both parties’ time and energy, so he avoided them completely. The presents they had left for him went untouched, sitting in their same positions they sat them in. Why bother pretending they cared in the first place? It was clearly out of pure pity. They  _ pitied _ him, they felt bad that he somehow stumbled into their mess. And now they were desperately trying to clean it up.

Peter only ever moved from his bed to use the bathroom, and the rest of the time he laid there, listening to music or watching TV. All that time laying there, and he scarcely slept. He was scared to sleep. Ever since that night when he closed his eyes, he had nothing but terrible nightmares. They barely made any sense, but there was always the same recurring theme, and the same distorted face he couldn’t understand. It felt like the dreams were ripping him apart, and no matter how many times he woke up and fell back asleep, it was always the same.

Peter had gotten so desperate to stay awake, he forced himself to shower when the first wave of exhaustion hit him. The freezing water woke him back up, and he wouldn’t leave for a good while, long enough to make sure he didn’t feel tired anymore. He repeats this process for only two nights, and the lack of sleep is beginning to make him crumble. It’s a wonder how he manages to hide it from Sonja’s prying eyes, but maybe she’s just too busy. It’s her  _ job _ to care about him, but maybe she actually doesn’t.  _ She shouldn’t. _

The past few days, Peter’s remained silent, only mumbling orders to FRIDAY to change the channel, play music, or play a certain show from Netflix. He’s in a strange trance, often spacing out, thinking about how the hell he’s gonna get out of here. Or his mind screams at him, forcing him to remember things he doesn’t want to. Memories of his parents, awful memories of when he used to live with him. Back then, he would hole himself up in his room just like this, hiding from them, forcing himself to be quiet. If he was quiet, they wouldn’t get angry. If he was quiet, he wouldn’t be a burden. Or, less than one, there was no way he could never be a burden in their eyes. But if he remained out of sight, he was safe. Until they found him.

Was this the same? Were they going to hurt him?

His lack of sleep was starting to mess with his mind. In the corners of his eyes, he could see dark figures moving. Sometimes it was subtle, but the sudden, quick movements made him jump out of his skin. It pulled back every awful memory of someone lunging at him. It made him fucking  _ panic _ . Sometimes he thought he saw bugs, though, those weren’t that bad. It didn’t make sense, but he didn’t mind it. Way better than seeing shadows moving.

The noises were worse. It wasn’t that bad sometimes, it was kind of like hearing voices another room over, or someone watching TV through the walls. When that happened, he didn’t quite notice. But then there was the banging, the sound of something shattering, and the  _ screaming _ . It didn’t last long, it was more like in short, random bursts, but it made his heart race. The screams came from different places, outside the door, through the walls somewhere, or worst of all, right in his ear. He wanted to cry when that happened, but he forced himself to hold it in. He forced himself to hold it together as best he could. FRIDAY would know, and she would tell someone again. Peter just wanted to be alone, he was good at being alone, he could manage being alone. He hated being here, being around people, being forced to be taken care of.

So what if he would have died? He  _ should have _ . Coyote was  _ wrong _ , not a single part of him wanted to be alive!

But Peter did nothing, absolutely nothing. He just laid there in a shitty trance, barely attached to consciousness. He deserved this.

A knock at the door startled him, and he would have wrote it off as another hallucination if someone didn’t enter a short moment later. It was Sonja, of course. She smiled.

“Hi, Peter, you ready for check-up today?”  _ Oh, shit. _ He forgot about that.

“Uhm, yeah… Yeah, can you give me a minute, please?” Peter sat up, running a hand up his face and into his hair.

“Of course, I’ll be right outside. Come out when you’re ready, ok?”

Sonja disappeared into the hall, and Peter was quickly on his feet. How fast could he make himself appear presentable?

He discarded his clothes, the same red sweater and pants Sonja had given him when he moved in, and moved to the closet. Peter hadn’t actually taken the chance to take a look at it before, so when he opened the sliding doors, it was almost overwhelming. It was chock-full of various clothes, plain colored t-shirts, jeans, sweatpants, a few jackets. Peter wasn’t picky, he knew to take what he could get, but to be honest the selection was rather  _ boring _ .

It took him a minute to sort through it all, finally settling on picking out a dark long-sleeved shirt, a pair of possibly the only leggings he could find, some nice, fluffy house shoes, and a thin jacket he could throw over himself. Peter got dressed in a hurry, then he made his way to the bathroom. Looking at himself in the mirror, he looked rather  _ worse  _ than he expected. There were prominent dark circles under his eyes, his hair was a greasy  _ mess _ sticking out all over the place, and his skin looked a little pale.

He grabbed a nearby rag off a rack piled with other towels, and vigorously wiped off his face with a little bit of water. Peter opted to brush his hair with his hands instead of using an actual brush, running his hands under the faucet. God, he really wanted to just cut it all  _ off _ . It was growing too long again. He looked like a god damn  _ girl _ .

He lingered a moment, glaring at himself in the mirror before forcing himself to walk away. He brushed himself off before putting on the small jacket, letting out a heavy sigh before he reached for the handle, stepping out the door.

“You ready?” Sonja asked gently.

“Yeah…” He mumbled in response.

Peter trudged along behind her as she led the way, leading him down the hall and through the common room. They weren’t alone this time. Sitting at the kitchen counter and chatting was a group of people, or  _ mostly _ people. Closest to them, there was a red haired girl sitting on one of the stools, laughing as she spoke to the boy that sat next to her, whose hair was a dirty platinum blonde in contrast. Across the island from them stood a strange figure, a man with bright red skin. He was the first to notice their entrance, facing them as he leaned against the counter.

“Good morning, Dr. Bougher,” He greeted politely, turning his gaze to Peter, “Peter Parker, I assume? It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Peter,” The red haired lady turned to face him. She had the kindest expression he’s probably ever seen. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Peter was a little quick to answer, averting his eyes.

She studied him closely for a moment before speaking again, introducing herself, “I’m Wanda, and this is my brother, Pietro, we live here at the compound. And this is Vision,” Wanda gestured at each man accordingly.

“I, too, live here,” Vision added.

_ Wanda. _ Peter remembered that name, vaguely. Tony had said something to him about her wanting to meet him. What a nice first impression this must be.

“Peter!” The man named Pietro suddenly announced, standing from his chair and approaching, hand held out towards him. “Nice to finally see you!”

Peter visibly flinched back from the outstretched hand as he walked towards him. He wasn’t sure if it was his mind playing tricks on him again, or if he had actually heard Pietro mutter ‘sorry’ under his breath before he pulled away. He suddenly felt guilty.

“Nice to meet you, too,” He forced himself to speak, glancing between the people standing before him.

There was an awkward silence after that. Did he make it weird, reacting like that?  _ God _ , he was a real dumbass, of  _ course _ it was his fault.

He caught Wanda giving him a sad smile before he looked away again.

“Well, It’s nice to meet you all,” Sonja spoke up, “But Peter has an appointment we have to get to.”

“Of course,” Wanda was the one to respond, “I hope to see you again, Peter.”

Sonja nodded politely, briefly touching Peter’s shoulder in a motion to continue following. They crossed the room, and disappeared into the short hallway. The room remained silent until the elevator doors closed.

“Did I do something wrong?” Pietro quietly spoke up, turning to his sister.

“No, Pietro, it’s not your fault.” She reassured him, standing up to place a comforting hand on his arm. “Remember when we first got here?”

Pietro frowned at the memory. “He - He doesn’t deserve that. Do you think…?”

Wanda shook her head, “I’m not going to assume anything about him, we just have to be patient. He’s clearly scared, and I don’t exactly _ blame _ him. We barely know what that thing inside of him is.”

“Not like they’re about to tell us anything anyways, you know how-”

Wanda gave him a pointed look, making him stop mid-sentence.

“They’ll tell us what we need to know, when they figure it out. I’m sure they’re working very hard. Bruce is a sweet man, I’m sure he’s doing everything he can with Dr. Cho.”

-

Peter was led back down to the first floor, expecting to be led out the door and make the long trek across the compound again, but was instead guided in the opposite direction. It wasn’t until they passed through the large doors did he remember the building had its own personalized Medbay. It was kinda like suddenly stepping into a hospital, and it threw him off for a moment.

Sonja showed him to a room not much different than the first one he had stayed in, if not smaller. He felt awkward having to sit on the bed, so he decided to sit on the sofa in front of the windows instead. Sonja lingered by the doorway.

“Dr. Cho will be with you in a moment, ok, honey?”

Peter gave a half-smile and a nod in response, then he was alone.

The silence was deafening. The sound of the door clicking shut reverberated in his ears, an endless loop as it slowly faded, matching the quiet. His elbow rested on the back of the couch as he sat sideways, hand holding up his face, eyelids sinking closed ever so slowly. Peter hoped Dr. Cho would be there fast.

Gaze flitting, he stared out the window, an attempt to distract himself. The sky was still grey and cloudy, almost heavy enough to threaten rain. The time was ambiguous by look alone, but he knew it must be early morning still. It was dark out not too long ago, Peter should know, having to force himself awake all night.

He couldn’t stop himself as his vision closed in, head starting to sag in his own grasp. Peter could feel himself slipping, but was helpless to stop it as he fell into the cushions.

An explosive bang and someone screaming his name woke him wide awake, heart jumping to his throat as his head whipped around the room. Peter was still by himself, and it was silent once again. He wanted to sob.

“Fri?” His voice shook.

“ _ Yes, Mr. Parker? _ ”

Peter took a second to breathe, the sound of her voice comforting, reminding him that he wasn’t completely alone. Befriending voices was becoming a strange pattern of his.

“Play some music.” He curled up, laying his head over his arms and knees.

Peter focused on the music as it came on, clinging onto it to keep him awake rather than put him to sleep. He wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting there before the doctor joined him.

Helen Cho walked through the door, hands in her coat pockets. She entered alone, letting the door drift closed behind her.

“Hello, Peter, how are you feeling?” She walked across the room, moving to the computer screen on the other side of the bed to pull something up.

“I’m alright,” An obvious lie.  _ Be more convincing, Peter. Actually try for once in your damn life. _

Dr. Cho was clearly unconvinced, but didn’t comment. She clicked away on the keyboard a moment longer before turning her whole body to face him.

“We won’t be doing anything serious today. FRIDAY keeps track of your vitals, that means no testing, ok? No needles either.”

Peter slowly nodded.

“I just have some questions I need to ask, are you alright with that?”

“Yeah,” He didn’t have a choice anyway.

Dr. Cho picked up a tablet from the counter, tapping on it as she walked over, taking a seat in one of the cushioned chairs adjacent from him. He adjusted himself, sitting facing forward instead of laying sideways.

“Take as much time as you need answering, we’re not in any hurry,” She spoke gently. “Now, Peter… We’re aware that you prefer your name, but we’re going to need a birth name. This is  _ important _ , it’ll help us get the information we need to really help you.”

Peter was waiting for this question, but it didn’t sting any less. He was aware how easy it would be for them to deduce his entire name was a fake, but he wasn’t about to budge on it. There was no way in hell his deadname would come out of his mouth ever again. He left all that behind years ago.

“Peter Benjamin Parker,”

“Ok… How about your first name, sweetie? I promise it’ll be between us, how about that? I know it might be difficult, but this is  _ very _ important, Peter.”

Not a chance.

“ _ Peter. Benjamin. Parker. _ ” He spoke slower, annunciating each word.

Dr. Cho was silent for a long moment, staring at him in thought before slowly nodding. “Alright, I understand. Thank you,”

That went over better than he thought it would…

She typed something into the tablet before looking back up at him, “This might be a little hard, as well, but again, you’re free to take as much time as you need, ok?”

“What do you know about this creature?” She gestured at him vaguely, “The one that occupies your body with you?”

Peter froze. Right, of course they would ask about that, too. He swallowed hard before he tried to speak.

“Not a lot,” That wasn’t a lie. He saw something shifting in the corner of his eye, but he tried to ignored it.

“How did you feel when it took over?”

He blinked, thinking about the question. He was never really _ there _ when Coyote took control. It was kind of scary to think about, but every time it happened, he had been sick. So he really hadn’t thought too hard about it. Would it be the same if he came back and tried taking over again?

“I-I don’t know…”

“Can you explain?” Dr. Cho leaned forward in the chair.

“Like I don’t know what happened when he did, like I was… Pushed back.” Why was he telling her this?

“He?” Her eyes narrowed slightly.

“Uh, it, I mean,” He fumbled to correct himself.

She watched him closely before continuing, “Are you aware of anything that happened?”

“No,” He lied. He wasn’t completely aware when he took control, but Coyote had vaguely informed him what had happened when he asked. Remembering how he told him he’d… Consumed a person made his stomach turn all over again. Peter had absolutely no idea what had led him to being taken prisoner by the Avengers, though. That part wasn’t a lie.

Dr. Cho solemnly nodded, and chose not to elaborate. “Well, from what we can tell, it seems to be inactive at the moment. That means you’re safe for now, and it’s allowing us time to work on the situation.”

“Has it tried to make contact with you, do you know?”

“No, but I can sort of feel… A presence,”  _ Lot of a lie and a little bit of the truth. _

“Can you feel anything else?”

“Yes, kinda, I could feel… Exhaustion, I guess?” _ Make them trust you. Be believable. _

“That makes sense, our theory was that it was the reason you got so sick. Previous studies showed us it has a unique connection with its host, and because of those studies we were able to figure out the best course of action to help you.”

Peter nervously fidgeted with his hands.  _ Studies. Experiments. Lab. The white room. Coyote. They hurt him.  _

“Is there anything else you might have experienced?”

He shook his head.

“FRIDAY has shown me a report of your vitals from this past week…”  _ Of course. _ “It’s understandable if you’re a little stressed, Peter, but she’s also informed me you haven’t been sleeping well. Do you need me to prescribe you pills to help? You aren’t the only person in this building that suffers from insomnia, so I’m quite experienced.”

“No, it’s uh… Nightmares,”  _ Stop talking! _

“I see,” Dr. Cho breathed, “Well, for some people, the medication gets rid of their dreams as well. I’ll give you a few, in case you want to try it, but if you decide not too… Maybe you should try meeting the other people that live in this building. I know that you haven’t left your room the past few days, Peter. You know, talking, or even just being around other people, can sometimes help relieve stress as well. Give it a try, ok?”

She stood up from the chair, placing a hand on his shoulder with a gentle smile. “I won’t bother you with more questions for now. Just try to relax a little, you’re perfectly safe here, Peter.”

Being safe wasn’t exactly what he was worried about. It was everyone else’s safety, on top of the fact they were working on finding a way to take away Coyote from him. Something he was now sure he didn’t want. It would be like stabbing him in the back, the only person that ever gave a  _ shit _ about him, by just handing him right back to the people he was  _ terrified _ of. Knowing that hit him hard, in a way he couldn’t exactly pinpoint.

Following Dr. Cho out into the hall, Peter was surprised to see Wanda once again, sitting in the small waiting room instead of Sonja. Dr. Cho politely excused herself, leaving the two alone. Peter was hesitant to approach, but Wanda was already on her feet, offering him the same kind look from earlier.

“Dr. Bougher told me there was something she needed to attend, so I offered to take you back.” Wanda explained, taking the lead for him to follow.

The walk to the elevators was quiet, and Peter’s mind had no problem filling that void for him. Faint whispering followed them as they walked, and their footsteps sounded far louder than possible, banging against his eardrums. It was almost painful enough to force himself to cover his ears, but there was a moment of relief as they stopped to take the elevator up.

Wanda must have taken notice of his pain, as she spoke up while they stood there, “You alright, Peter?”

“Yeah, headache,” He brushed it off, but for some reason, she didn’t look exactly convinced.

Thankfully, the sound of their steps returned to normal level as they stepped out, and the whispering seemed to pause. There was a lone person sitting in a chair in the corner of the common room as they passed, but they didn’t bother looking up, focused on the book in their hands. Peter only gave them a quick glance, not catching much more detail than that.

Wanda slowed down as they approached the hallway, walking at Peter’s side.

“I’m sorry for my brother earlier, he can be, err, too eager.” She paused for a moment, “Maybe you should join us for dinner tonight? I understand how intimidating it is, but… I promise, they aren’t. It’s more like being around a bunch of fools.”

That wasn’t all that much better, in Peter’s mind. He immediately connected the dots, attaching it to an overwhelming sense of danger. A group of grown men acting up was rather  _ less _ safe than the alternative. There were women, too, but… 

“Peter?” Wanda was leaning in closer to him. They were stopped in front of his door. “Are you alright?”

“Sorry, I’ll have to think about it.” He shook his head, brows furrowed.

“That’s alright, you don’t have to join us. Maybe next time… By the way, have you opened those gifts yet?”

When he shook his head again, she continued.

“Open the one from Clint,” Wanda smiled, and moved to start backing away down the hall. “We can talk later, if you’d like. But you should rest, you look tired.”

She gave no room to argue as she disappeared around the corner. Peter stood there a second, confused and also vaguely concerned. He turned the door handle and cautiously stalked over to the middle table, eyeing the gift bags.

There was sticky notes attached to the sides of some of them, stating which one was from who. The rest of them were simply marked as from  _ Avengers _ . Reading the nametags, he could see there was gifts from  _ Clint, Bruce, Natasha, Wanda _ , and  _ Tony _ . Peter didn’t want to touch them, hesitating before he grabbed the gift from Clint, taking it with him as he sat on the bed.

Weird, why would she tell him to open Clint’s instead of her own?

Slowly pulling out the stuffing paper from the top, he could see a small envelope sitting on top of a red box. He grabbed the letter, looking it over. It had his name on it written on it in rather sloppy handwriting. Carefully tearing it open, he unfolded the lone piece of paper inside.

_ Hi Peter! :) _

_ I won’t be around when you open this, but I’ll be back in another week or two! This is Clint, by the way. _

_ I’m giving you my old nintendo switch! To be honest, this is the one I lost a little while ago… And I bought myself a new one already, so I don’t need it. Tony found it for me a few weeks ago. It ended up in his lab somehow?? Maybe he took it and didn’t tell me. I don’t know. _

_ I can imagine it probably gets boring being stuck at the compound, so I’m glad to hopefully give you something fun to help pass the time. :) _

_ I went ahead and made you your own profile, and I got you some games (don’t worry I used Tony’s credit card), and I added Wanda, Pietro, and myself to your friends list! Won’t be able to play until I get back though, but I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if you asked! I think you would all get along, they’re around your age (I think) _

_ Have fun! :) _

Peter eyed the box again, underneath where the letter has been. It now says  _ Nintendo _ in bold white lettering. He pulled it out and looked it over, and sure enough, it was exactly what Clint had said.

This felt like… A lot. Too much, maybe. He didn’t want this. Peter could barely remember the last time he played a video game, it felt like  _ ages _ ago now. He did have an interest in it, knowing what little he did from social media, but he didn’t feel like he could accept this gift. He didn’t deserve it.

He placed the box back in the bag, not even bothering opening it and looking inside, and moved it to the floor, next to the bed. Peter was fine laying in bed, listening to music and mindlessly watching TV. It was a little mind-numbing, and he couldn’t help but feel stupid. He should be trying to get out, but instead, he was just  _ waiting _ . Waiting for something that now felt hopeless. But maybe that was for the best. He shouldn’t expect Coyote to show up and somehow save them. That felt  _ selfish _ , just because he was there for him before didn’t mean he had to be here now. And if he was, he wouldn’t be anywhere near happy about it. People might get hurt again. Peter needed to figure this out himself. He had to stop waiting, wasting his time.

The room spun as Peter moved his head too fast, making him stagger as he stood back up.  _ What do you plan to do, walk right out, genius? _

No, he couldn’t walk out the doors. He probably wouldn’t even be allowed to operate the elevators, FRIDAY would make sure of that. His skin crawled, making him idly itch at his arm. How would he get out of here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sudden turn of events!!!!!!   
> shout out to the few of you that keep up with this fic. we're all out here on this wild ride of constant drama


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i tried to post this chapter and my laptop crashed lmaaooo
> 
> anyways i rewrote this chapter FOUR TIMES and i hated all of it. still unhappy with this one but you know what? i had to write down some shit before i have a breakdown myself. and hopefully this will be the start of some relationships and better understanding later on
> 
> sorry if this chapter really sucks i tried so hard yall. i want to get to try to get to the happier stuff soon
> 
> WARNING FOR ATTEMPTED SUICIDE and ptsd episode written out of my own experience

Peter was spiraling. He was falling head-first into himself, and he was helpless to stop it.

_ out out out trapped trapped trapped hurt me hurt me hurt me hurt me _

_ alone alone alone alone all fucking alone _

_ hurt me hurt me hurt me please someone hurt me please please please _

_ please theres too much just hurt me just hurt me just hurt me _

_ HURT ME HURT ME HURT ME _

_ TRAPPED TRAPPED TRAPPED TRAPPED _

_ HERE FOREVER! STUCK HERE FOREVER! _

He was curled up into himself on the bed, far past the point of sobbing as his thoughts screamed inside his mind, his own self only managing chokes between trying to breathe as his throat strangled itself.

Peter was not here. He was a child again, and it was all too real. He was trapped in that fucking house, that house he was going to  _ rot _ in. That house that was his prison.

_ JUST HURT ME. GET IT OVER WITH. STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP _

He could feel the screaming instead of hearing it. It tore his insides apart.

He could feel the hatred, the pure fucking hatred against him as the strikes hit their mark. He couldn’t feel the pain, but the emotion was all too real and in the moment. The absolute emotional damage of it all.

Peter was so many emotions, too many emotions, all at once. Anger wasn’t excluded, his own hatred boiling at the surface. He fucking _ hated _ everyone that did this to him. He wanted them  _ dead _ .

_ DEAD, HUH? _

Shut up, shut up,  _ shut up _ .

There was only so much Peter could handle at  _ once _ . He couldn’t deal with the guilt of being the reason multiple innocent people are dead right now.

The people that did this to him  _ deserved _ it.

_ HURT HURT HURT DESERVE TO HURT NEED TO HURT JUST HURT ME ALREADY! _

Peter sickeningly craved it, he _ needed _ it, he needed to hurt. He needed someone to hurt him in any way possible. It just wasn’t the same self-inflicted.

_ USE ME USE ME HURT ME HURT ME I DONT CARE! FUCK ME UP MORE! PLEASE! _

“You don’t get to fucking  _ do this to me _ ,” Peter choked out through gasps of silent sobs, “You  _ cared _ ! I thought you  _ cared _ !”

He was speaking to himself, to the slumbering symbiote somewhere inside of him. He couldn’t discern how he felt about him in this moment. Not anything pleasant.

“I can’t- I can’t be here,” He moved, sitting up on his hands and knees on top of the bed. “ _ We _ can’t be here,”

“They’re going to _ hurt us _ ! And I can’t- I can’t- I’m too fucking  _ weak _ ,” Shifting to sit on his knees, Peter clasped his hands around his face, catching the tears as they continued to fall.

_ NO CONTROL NO CONTROL NO CONTROL NEED CONTROL _

“And if you aren’t going to come out your damn self and get us  _ out _ ,” He paused for a moment, briefly contemplating before spitting the rest of the words out, “Then I’ll fucking  _ make you _ .”

_ OR KILL MYSELF! EITHER WAY, IT’S A WIN! _

-

Peter’s brain was failing to process.

It was night outside. When did it become night? How long had he been laying by that in bed for? What time? He didn’t ask.

Peter was ready to turn his entire room upside down in search of a suitable object when Sonja walked in with her usual smile. She looked at him with concern, but didn’t pry farther than a few careful questions. He brushed them all off, and after a long, hesitant moment she finally left.

Nestled next to the plate of food she carried in, a knife. A rather blunt knife, but a knife nonetheless. Thank god they were having pork chops for dinner.

He reached to pick it up, turning it over in his hands. Peter fell frozen, staring at the dull metal, hesitating. It wasn’t exactly a butter knife, but it might as well consider itself one. Could it slice the skin, if he tried hard enough? Or would he be forced to impale himself? Maybe the more extreme would convince his friend better.

_ OUT OUT OUT GET OUT CONTROL NEED CONTROL CONTROL CONTROL NOT HERE NOT SAFE NEED OUT TRAPPED TRAPPED TRAPPED HELP HELP HELP _

_ COWARD. _

“ _ Peter? _ ” A gentle voice called to him. Peter vaguely recognized it as Stark’s AI. She must have witnessed his entire breakdown earlier. He wasn’t sure if she tried to reach out to him then, but why would she anyway? She was an AI, she wasn’t capable of caring. Her extent of caring was informing someone if he was in pain, that was all.

His display must have not been bad enough for that. Not until now, at least.

“ _ Peter, I must advise you to put the object down. I don’t believe you’re in a suitable state of mind to be in contact with it. _ ” He didn’t respond, and he didn’t move to put it back down. “ _ I will be forced to contact your caretaker. _ ”

Peter’s breathe hitched. Memories came back to him, ones that didn’t feel like  _ his _ , but instilled him with fear all the same. Young, he was young, he was at school, something… Something happened, he was crying and upset, the teachers were trying to talk to him. How old was he? He felt like a baby, but he wasn’t... He wasn’t…

_ words words words  _ Why weren’t there any words? Shouldn’t there be words? Shouldn’t he remember something other than the _ feeling _ ? There was screaming in his ears, someone was angry at him, but the words just weren’t there. Why couldn’t he remember them anymore? Maybe that meant it wasn’t bad enough. It wasn’t bad enough. It could’ve been worse.

_ STOP TRYING TO MAKE YOURSELF THE VICTIM, LITTLE SHIT! _

“Peter?” That wasn’t FRIDAY’s voice. It forced his eyes to look up at the source. “Sweetie, what’s wrong? Why don’t you hand that to me, ok?”

Peter was a still image. Frozen.

Sonja slowly advanced, hands held out in caution. FRIDAY must have alerted her. She reached out to firmly grasp his wrist, other hand taking a hold on the knife’s handle.

Alarms sounded in his mind, forcing him to action.

_ DONT TOUCH ME DONT TOUCH ME DONT TOUCH ME  _

_ ILL KILL YOU BEFORE YOU EVER GET TO TOUCH ME AGAIN! _

Peter’s pulled his hand back, along with the knife. It slid across Sonja’s fingers, the blade slicing them open as she gasped, suddenly pulling back. He was on his feet now, back nearly against the wall with his arm extended, pointing the knife at her in warning.

Sonja was standing further away, pressing her other hand onto the wound. Her expression was a twist of pain and something else. He could’ve mistaken it for anger.

_ GOOD. HIT ME HIT ME HIT ME PUNISH ME SCREAM AT ME _

_ ILL KILL YOU BEFORE YOU GET THE CHANCE! _

His thoughts were contradicting themselves. He wanted the familiar pain, he wanted to hurt, and he needed to defend himself. God, he was  _ losing _ it.

“What’s going on?” There was a different, rushed voice entering the room. Tony Stark was at the doorway, taking in the situation. Peter could make out the different sets of footsteps behind him as they came to a stop.

“ _ Peter _ ,” Tony said, cautiously, holding the same stance Sonja did only moments ago, “Let’s calm down, ok? No need to threaten anyone with a butter knife,”

_ EVERYONE’S HERE TO SEE YOUR FUCKING MELTDOWN! _

_ NO ESCAPE NO ESCAPE NO ESCAPE TRAPPED TRAPPED TRAPPED _

_ CONTROL CONTROL CONTROL CONTROL NEED CONTROL HELPLESS HELPLESS _

“Get  _ away _ from me!  _ Don’t touch me _ !” Peter practically screeched, swinging to hold the object in his direction, making Tony pause in his advance.

“No one’s going to touch you, Peter,” Tony voice was a forced calm, and if Peter wasn’t losing it, he might’ve noticed the tremble in the man’s hands. “But you need to calm down, maybe drop the knife for starters,”

_ TRAP ITS A TRAP HES LYING HES LYING HES LYING _

_ HELP HELP HELP NEED HELP NEED OUT _

_ SAFE SAFE SAFE WANT TO BE SAFE NOT SAFE NOT HERE _

_ JUST LIKE HOME JUST LIKE HOME JUST LIKE HOME _

Tears were falling down his cheeks again. When did he start crying again? He figured his eyes were all dried out by now.

“ _ No _ ,” Peter’s voice shook, but he was serious. “No.”

“Okay…” Tony swallowed. “Okay, maybe uh, why don’t you tell me what happened? Then we can fix it, alright?”

“No,” He repeated.

An exasperated sigh left Tony’s lips, “Kid, I want to help you, ok? But I’m gonna need you to  _ drop _ the knife,”

Peter’s gaze flickered between object and man. Tony Stark’s lips were still moving, words escaping them, but they didn’t reach Peter’s ears. They fell into the background, an after thought of sound.

_ DO THE RIGHT THING. _

Tony must have stopped talking, as the room fell into silence.

It was a quick moment, a swift flick of the wrist, his full force put into forearm as it swung for his chest. The knife plunged, and Peter was gasping in pain, at his knees.

“ _ Holy shit! _ ” Tony exclaimed, rushing forward to catch the kid before he hit the ground. Peter didn’t register his touch, nor his presence as he grabbed a hold of him. There was an awful churning in his gut, and he felt like he was going to puke.

He moved to roll out of the man’s lap, but he had a firm hold, only managing to turn sideways as Peter choked. There was a cacophony of noise happening all around them, but it simply fell out of his reach.

The bile felt like claws scraping against his esophagus, fighting its way out. Peter expected it to suddenly explode from his mouth, but it merely fell out as he gaped, choking on it. He expected it to be the disgusting pale color, even possibly red given the circumstance, but it lacked color completely. It was pitch black.

The fluid began to fall seemingly from underneath his fingernails, building and collecting around his hands. Stark was shouting something above him, but Peter couldn’t hear. He curled his blackened hand against himself, tears falling from his face into the man’s lap. _ You’re here. You’re here. You’re here. _

_ Get us out. _

Coyote snapped to sudden form, all of it seeping from Peter’s form at once, swallowing him whole. The sudden weight toppled the man that was holding him, but he was gone within seconds, rushing for the door. The knife dripped from his form, clattering onto the floor.

This was a very different feeling. Peter was fully conscious, fully aware of what was happening, not forced to the back like before. He could feel Coyote’s conscience, his movements, and even peer through his eyes. It was incredibly strange, but Peter couldn’t dwell on it for long. There was panic, _ so _ much panic, and fear, and  _ pain _ . His chest felt like it was being ripped apart.

Coyote bursted into the hallway, slamming into the wall at the other side as he spun around to face the group of people standing in his way. Their startled expressions were quickly replaced with defensive stances. They were ready to fight him.

_ Don’t hurt them. Please. I can’t- _

Peter didn’t want to be the reason more ended up gravely injured. He just wanted  _ out _ .

Coyote understood. In a quick, unexpected motion, judging from their reactions, the alien was up and over them, using the wall to bounce past. The mass of heroes scrambled after him as he raced for the common room, the wall of window meeting him. He had dealt with this before, no big deal. He careened his entire body force into the glass. It didn’t budge.

He tried and tried again, slamming and kicking helplessly, angry, desperate howls escaping him. The sound of sudden, halting footsteps made him spin to face the fanned out line of people.

_ Please,  _ please _ , I want out it hurts it hurts it hurts _

Peter cried from inside, reaching only Coyote’s ears. He could feel the boys pain, both physical and emotional, tearing him up inside out. His muffled screams, his cries, his pleas for Coyote to  _ save him _ . Save him from a place that wasn’t here, people that weren’t around. It was all too confusing and didn’t make sense, but he was adamant that he would rather die before he let anyone touch Peter.

The party seemed to mutter to each other, but it wasn’t caught by Coyote’s ears. He was in a frenzied state, only just woken up into this mess, trying to make any amount of sense of his shared emotions, but only failing.

_ he’s here he’s here he’s here help please help help help he’s hurting me i can’t please i can’t take it anymore _

_ Who? Where? _

_ HERE! _

A stream of liquid red seeped from Coyote’s mouth, hitting the floor with a patter.

“Let’s not make a mess of the house, now.” A voice from the crowd spoke out. Coyote singled out its source, glaring at a gleaming suit of armor. He bared his teeth as it took a cautious step forward.

“I’m gonna cut to the chase,” It started again, “That kid you have a hold of, he’s hurt, Cujo. I’m only going to ask you kindly _once_ to return him.”

Coyote snapped his jaws, blood splattering out of his mouth and splaying across the fabric of a nearby chair. The gaze of the armor flickered to it, letting out an ‘ugh, great.’

_ it hurts it hurts it hurts _

“You hurt him,” He rasped.

There was a subtle cock of the armor’s head, taking a moment to respond, “No one hurt the kid except himself.”

_ What? _

Coyote’s stance faltered as he strained to reach for the memory. It was a blur, everything all too fast and  _ too much _ . It all felt wrong, out of place, distant. What was happening?

A knife resting in Peter’s hand was the only brief, clear moment. He did this? No, he wouldn’t, he-

_ Peter? _

_ i want it to stop. please. _

He was beginning to make sense of the situation, the extent of the damage Peter had apparently done to himself. It was deep, too deep for him to help. If they managed to get out, Peter would only be brought to the brink of death. Coyote couldn’t let that happen all over again. He wanted to keep him  _ safe _ .

“Can-” Coyote hesitated. This was  _ wrong _ , he shouldn’t let this happen, but there was no other way. “Can you help him?”

The question seemed to take them all by surprise. Hunched shoulders sunk, and the faceplate of the armor was pulled back. The face underneath made him wince. He remembered that face. It made him want to escape himself, but he couldn’t. Not at the cost of Peter’s life.

“Yes, of course,” The man breathed, “We don’t want to hurt him, or you if we don’t have to. Not if it ruins our living room.”

Coyote let out a snort, not at the man’s sense of humor, moreso towards the statement of doing him no harm. That was rather debatable, given his experience.

_ I’m sorry, Peter. Please trust me. _

_ please… _

He could feel the boy fading with the amount of blood loss. Coyote hesitantly glanced around between each of their eyes, all unreadable to him. He was scared to let them touch the boy, but he knew Peter needed help. Badly.

Coyote’s legs folded as his form receded in on itself, exposing Peter’s curled up form. He remained a small, undefined form, gently wrapped behind the boy’s neck.

Peter’s vision was hazy as it returned to his own, eyes half-lidded, fighting to remain awake. His hand was clutching the fabric over his chest, pressing against the self-imposed wound, teeth clenched at the pain. His shirt was covered in his own blood.

Approaching figures entered his vision, shoes standing in front of his eyes. Hands around him, someone picking him up. He would have fought against it if the pain wasn’t the only thing he could feel.

_ You’ll be ok, Peter. I’m right here. I’m here. _


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *finger guns* i try so hard.
> 
> im throwing this chapter out there before i can think too hard about it and regret it. i have SO many fluff ideas but getting there is going to be a struggle cause Fuck me for accidentally making my FIRST FIC a slow burn apparently. how the hell are you supposed to get from point a to point b??? how yall writers do that???
> 
> PS ill die before i write vision/wanda, even if wanda is aged up here. its creepy as fuck imo. wanda is literally the same age as peter (in canon)
> 
> PSS im so bad at writing talking scenes YALL. i feel like all the convos are SO SHORT... im doing my best to improve as i go along!!! shoutout to the first chapters where it was batshit crazy and made no sense!!

Tony had been absent the past few days. He found the strength to attend a few meetings and try to deal with the aftermath himself, instead of having Rhodey or Pepper represent for him. This was his decision he had made,  _ his _ fault, after all. After each meeting, his composure teetered at the edge, threaten to send him plummeting back down, but he fought it each time. He was simply too tired to let himself give in.

And of course, the first day of his return, during his first dinner back at the compound, things went to shit. Funny how that happens.

The kid was out cold not long after his apparent friend turned him over. Definitely something they needed to unpack there. It was pretty obvious he had lied during Dr. Cho’s questioning not that many hours before, anyways.

The creature had wrapped itself around the boy’s neck, eyes watching each person carefully. After the doctors had finally finished patching and setting him up in one of the Medbay rooms, it grew to reach itself over Peter’s chest. Smaller, half-formed, only its torso wrapped around his torso, head resting on his shoulder. It cared about him. Strange.

Tony had lingered in the room for a while, the familiar guilt creeping back into his chest as he watched Peter’s chest rise and fall. The thing on his chest wasn’t asleep, an eye kept on the man as he stood there. It felt almost awkward, but he couldn’t seem to pull himself away.

It was Steve who had pulled him from the room, escorting him out of the medical wing. Tony simply followed in his dazed state. He caught the occasional concerned look the other man gave him, but neither of them spoke. Not until they stood side by side in the elevator, the silence feeling too heavy to bare.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Steve’s voice was soft, “This isn’t your fault.”

“Yeah…” That was all Tony could manage. He knew it wasn’t, not directly, anyway. His mind just loved to connect the dots.

Another silence. Steve swallowed before turning to him. Tony didn’t meet his gaze, eyes stubbornly fixed on the elevator doors.

“We haven’t talked since before,” Steve hesitated long enough for Tony to interrupt.

“It’s fine, you were right, like always,” His tone lacked bitterness, instead sounding resigned.

“No, I wasn’t.” That made him turn. Steve’s eyes were serious, immediately locking onto his. “It was wrong of me to say that to you, Tony. That’s not- It’s the wrong way to try and  _ help _ you. You’re just… Well, you can be frustrating, and it makes  _ me _ frustrated.”

A smirk pulled on Tony’s lips, “Wow, didn’t know you felt that way about me.”

“Tony, I’m being serious,”

“Right,” Tony averted his eyes again, the  _ feelings _ happening making him uncomfortable, “I appreciate your apology, Rogers.”

“Thank you,”

The silence that followed was only slightly more bearable, but neither of them spoke up again.

-

Peter was vaguely awake before he could open his eyes. He didn’t want to, they felt far too heavy. His whole body felt too heavy. He groaned.

“Peter?” There was a gentle voice in his ear accompanied by hot breath. It was deep, gravelly, familiar…

“Coy’te?” Peter managed to mumble out. He was forcing his eyes open now, glancing the room briefly before it was replaced by the dark figure as it loomed over him.

“You’re safe, Peter,” His voice was comforting, but his breath, however, was disgusting. Peter attempted to raise a hand to push his face away, but it only made it half-way before falling over his chest.

“Sorry,” Coyote whispered, resting his head over Peter’s shoulder once again.

Peter lays frozen at the movement, only now beginning to register the pressure over his chest. A panic starts to rise in his chest before he can realize it isn’t oppressive. It isn’t cruel, it isn’t a threat, it’s warm and it’s safe. His eyes start to well up as everything comes back to him.

“‘m so selfish…” Peter chokes out, “I- I forced you… I’m awful. I’m- I’m just like-“

“ _ No _ ,” Coyote’s voice is low, but it’s sharp, “You’re  _ nothing _ like them. And I’m not upset with you, Peter,”

“You should be,” He barely breathed, “You should be.”

“You needed me, and I couldn’t wake up.  _ I’m _ sorry, Peter,”

_ I wish you didn’t. _

Peter’s tears grew into a heavy sob before he spoke again, “They’re goin’ to- to  _ take _ you.”

“They can’t, they won’t,”

_ Then they’ll use me instead. _ There was no response from Coyote, only a subtle squeeze around Peter’s chest as his grip seemed to tighten. It made him notice its awful ache. Not as awful as he expected from what he could remember. That was probably thanks to the drugs they most definitely pumped into him.

Peter slowly reached up his left hand to press against the pain, Coyote’s form shifting around to allow the contact. It awkwardly settled against the bandaged wound on the right side of his chest, right over his-

_ Oh my god. _ He squeezed his eyes shut. There was such an assortment of emotion at the realization he didn’t know what to feel. _ My boob- I stabbed my  _ fucking _ boob! _

No wonder it felt like his insides were being ripped apart before! Every single movement jostled it around, extremely uncomfortable in every single sense. It practically _ was _ being torn apart at every shift, even curled into Coyote’s form.

_ God, my chest… They saw my chest… Fuck. Idiot!  _

Peter wanted to curl up and die. Sure, he immediately outed himself when he first arrived, but they _ saw his chest _ . It was completely different. It was humiliating, disgusting, awful, and underneath it all he somehow felt ashamed. Ashamed they  _ saw _ him, even if it was life-or-death. He would prefer death than this absolutely wrong feeling.

“Who?” Forming an entire sentence was far too much of an effort at this moment, but Coyote could understand him anyway. He wanted to know who hand bandaged him up (and most likely stitched him up.) God, had it been that man - Bruce Banner? The thought made him feel like he was rotting inside, for two distinct reasons.

“A lady, she seemed nice enough.” 

_ Probably Dr. Cho, _

Everything became quiet after that, even Peter’s thoughts. The tear streaks down his face were starting to dry as his flurry of emotions seemed to seep from his mind. He was tired of feeling, instead focusing on his heavy body.

_ Kind of hard to die when you’re surrounded by heroes, huh? _

-

“He looked awful on the walk back, exhausted,” Wanda’s spoke as if it was painful, “I knew something was wrong, he just seems  _ so _ skittish, but- but I didn’t- we could’ve-”

“Stop,” Bruce shook his head, “There’s enough self-imposed blame going around here. None of us are at fault. We should just be glad it didn’t have to end in a fight.”

The assortment of people sat gathered in the common room. Wanda was with her brother on the couch, curled into him for comfort. It was late into the night at this point, hours since the incident, but she was still shaken with worry.

The rest of them, save for Bruce who sat straight across from the two, were fanned throughout the room. Vision was standing closeby, clear concern for Wanda etched in his expression. Steve was leaning himself against the island counter of the kitchen, Nat sitting upon one of the stools next to him. Rhodey was standing against the doorframe of the hall.

Everyone was present, except for a certain Stark.

“I know, Bruce. We know.” She let out a long sigh, “He just…”

“Reminds you of yourself.” Bruce was slowly nodding as he said the words.

“But it feels different, doesn’t it?  _ Worse _ ,” The last word was a whisper out of her mouth. Wanda shut her eyes before they could threaten to spill over again. “He’s a  _ kid _ , he doesn’t deserve this.”

Vision shifted closer to carefully rest a hand on her shoulder, making Wanda reach up to lock her fingers with his.

There was a solemn silence as everyone considered the words. No one could deny something more wasn’t up with the kid, more than they previously imagined, and possibly more than they know how to deal with. Peter never left his room except for the few check-ins with Dr. Cho, and had no interest in any interaction, except for FRIDAY, apparently. But even then, the AI had informed them he had became silent the past few days. 

At the beginning, they had expected some sort of reaction from the kid. A reaction that would be typical of a teenager, like maybe amazement at being around the Avengers, but Peter didn’t care at all. In fact, it was the opposite. He avoided them at all cost, and the times they were around, he seemed absolutely terrified. It was strange, and it was an immediate red flag Wanda seemed to pick up on.

She was drawn to him since the beginning, being in the same position before, she sympathized with him. But the feeling seemed to grow the longer Peter was around, the more Wanda observed his actions. It was sickeningly familiar.

When Wanda and Pietro had first arrived at the compound years ago after Ultron, she wasn’t all that much different. The duo’s time spent with HYDRA was not a pleasant one. It isn’t her place to fret over someone she barely knows, she’s aware, but it’s all too familiar to just shrug off.

“It’s late, we should all get some rest.” It was Steve’s voice that broke the silence and made the group stir. There was a mumbled agreeance between them as they slowly dispersed, heading off to their rooms for the night.

Steve remained in the same position, watching Bruce slink off towards the elevators last, giving him and Natasha, who remained at his side, one last glance before disappearing behind the closing doors. Steve let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“You’ve been quiet,” He commented, arms crossing as he gazed downward.

Natasha shifted in her seat, leaning backwards to prop her elbows against the counter at her back. She contemplated what to say before speaking. 

“It cared about the boy,” She pondered, “We had it cornered in the hallway, but it didn’t fight us.”

Steve looked up at her, brows furrowed, “And?”

“It’s scared.”

“Doesn’t cornering an animal give it more reason  _ to _ attack?”

“It’s not an animal, and it’s attached to a terrified boy it apparently wants to keep safe.”

“Fair point,” Steve shrugged, “So, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying we aren’t dealing with the threat Tony got himself so  _ guilt-ridden _ over,” Natasha stood to her feet, thoughtfully resting a hand on Steve’s shoulder as she moved to leave. “We’re dealing with scared children that don’t know where they belong in this world.”

“ _ Children _ ? What-” Steve’s face screwed up in confusion, but the woman was gone before he was allowed a response.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wanted to write something HAPPY in this fic for once!!!!  
> also im going to be brutally honest. i write these chapters then absolutely forget everything thats happened before. i have very poor memory and am only vaguely planning this fic out because. HONESTLY if i try to 100% plan it its just gonna drive me away from it and stress me out. so we write as we go lads!  
> rarepair time!!! :D

When the elevator dinged, announcing her arrival at the top suite, Natasha expected it to be a little more lively, even at this hour of the night. Instead, as she stepped out into the living room, she was greeted by the group of people sprawled against each other on the sofa.

She stood there for a moment, gladly taking in the scene. Tony Stark wrapped up in between his two favorite people, Stephen curled up at his right side with his arm around the man, and Pepper leaning against his other side, nearling falling into his lap. It made a soft smile pull at her lips. Nat was pulling her phone out of her pocket to snap a photo when her attention was suddenly drawn elsewhere.

The distant clang of dishes sent her towards the kitchen, where she found the doctor’s missing cloak, meddling with the mess that was the sink. It paused at her entrance, waving its collar in greeting. Natasha rolled her eyes, “What did Pep say about a certain cloak doing the dishes?”

The Cloak sagged, letting a cup drop from its grasp into the sink.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” She winked, waving her phone in the air before returning to the people still slumbering away on the couch. She took her photo and returned, turning the phone to show it to the Cloak, who clapped the corners of its fabric together happily.

“So, how’d it go while I wasn’t here?” Natasha pulled one of the stools away, sitting and leaning against the counter where it resumed its task. Strange wasn’t the only person capable of holding a conversation with his cape. 

The Cloak gestured in response while it worked.

“Huh,” Her gaze shifted across the bar that separates the rooms, back to the couch, “Expected Tony to freak more than that.”

The Cloak pointed at her in question.

“Impromptu meeting of sorts,” Natasha answered shortly, diverting the topic as she turned to face it, “How long have they been like that?”

The Cloak tapped at its collar in ponder before answering.

“Almost three hours? That’s surprising,” She commented, “Two out of three of them are insomniacs. Must’ve been exhausted for them to pass out like that.”

The Cloak nodded, carefully placing the ceramic plates in the racks. Natasha could see the soaked corners of its fabric.

“Do you sleep?” She asked, eyes squinting in question, subtlety leaning forwards.

It waved its corner in a ‘sort of’ gesture.

“So why are you up doing the  _ dishes _ ?”

The Cloak’s whole form waved in a happy motion.

“Huh, ok… The only living cloak in the world, and it likes cleaning plates. Definitely doesn’t reek of influence from a certain  _ someone _ .”

It slapped at her shoulder, making her let out a chuckle. The Cloak waved its corners around in silence, explaining itself.

“Ah, I see, he didn’t  _ make _ you. He just needed someone to pick up his lazy mess.”

The Cloak straightened out its side in a “No!!” motion.

“What’s going on in here?” A certain sleepy voice mumbled, hidden behind the fabric’s outstretched form. A certain very adorable sounding voice that immediately made Natasha’s heart melt and a smile spread across her face.

The Cloak spun around, collar flaring in surprise.

“Uh oh,” Nat said in mock surprise, “Looks like we’ve been caught!”

“Hey, your hands!” Pepper’s voice raised, reaching for the corners of the Cloak and fixing it with a _ look _ , “What did we talk about?”

“Apparently, it loves doing the dishes so much it can’t help itself.” Natasha smiled, reaching out an arm to tug Pepper into a tight embrace, briefly rising to her feet to place a kiss on her cheek.

Pepper smiled, softly cupping Nat’s face in her hand before fixing her gaze back on the culprit. “Dishes can wait until the morning. You should be sleeping, or whatever it is that you do! And you’ll dirty your fabric, and  _ god _ you know how Stephen is if a _ single  _ drop of dirty dish water so much as touches him!”

The Cloak drooped, expression dripping in guilt. And water.

Pepper sighed, “Just make sure to dry yourself off good, ok, honey? And don’t make me catch you like this again!”

It nodded fervently, holding its soaking corners away from itself as it made its way for the paper towels.

“Surprised you’re the first of the three to be awake,” Natasha sighed, pulling Pepper close to hug against her waist as she sank back to the stool.

“They… Got into an argument,” Pepper was hesitant in her response. Nat raised an eyebrow.

“Really?” The two of them looked perfectly fine by the way they were entangled on that couch.

“I know,” Pepper gave a weak laugh, “Had to get them to settle down myself.  _ You _ weren’t there to save me.”

“Sorry, lyubimaya,” Nat placed a kiss to Pepper’s hand, “Team needed me.”  _ Team needed Tony, too. _

“Yeah, FRIDAY told him, but you know how that went. How he is, right now.” Pepper practically read her mind. She was good at that.

The Cloak returned to them in the pause between speaking, holding out its corner for Pepper to inspect. She ran her hands over them before gently patting one end, giving it a soft smile. “Why don’t you give the boys some company, sweetie?”

The Cloak patted her hand back before it floated off, out the door and into the living room. It wrapped itself around their sleeping bodies.

There was a thoughtful silence from Natasha as she watched it saunter off, before her eyes drifted to Pepper again. They were locked in knowing expressions for a brief moment before Nat raised to her feet. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

-

“Are you aware you have an enhanced metabolism, Peter?”

“And that means...?” Peter’s tone was void of emotion, except for a tinge of sass. When he had finally woken up, it was as if all feeling had drained from him. Couldn’t bring himself to care much at all about a single thing, instead rather resigned about it all. It allowed a sliver of his typical, biting self to show through, even if his subconscious screamed how bad an idea that was. Nothing they could do to him that hadn’t already been done, he figured, so fuck it all!

The apparent switch from being terrified to aggressive and bitter wasn’t shocking, more like funny to Peter. In a weird, possibly sick way.

“It means you’re capable of healing much quicker than the normal person. In this case, you’re quite lucky. It’s only been a day now, and your wound seems to be healing nicely.” Dr. Cho had removed the bandaging as she viewed the stitching, putting some weird solution on it before wrapping the area back up. Peter maybe winced a little at his exposed chest, but whatever. Numb. Don’t care. Yeah. “It also means you’re expected to eat more than the average person in a day, to keep up with your body. So don’t feel bad about wanting a little more food.”

_ I guess that makes sense with the hunger... _

“Did you know?” Peter turned to look at Coyote, now turned to face the woman as he lay across his same shoulder. His form had slowly crept across Peter’s body, almost swallowing him whole. Peter didn’t mind it. He got a silent nod in response.

“Well, thanks for telling me,” His tone was sarcastic and strikingly bitter.

Dr. Cho cleared her throat, “We believe it’s a side-effect from long-term exposure with this creature.”

“This  _ creature _ has a name,” Peter bit out.

“And what may that be?” She didn’t even flinch at the hostility, gentle composure unwavering.

“Coyote,” His eyes narrowed, “And you can’t have him.”

“ _ Have _ him? Peter, we aren’t sure what this- What Coyote is exactly capable of. What more it could do to your body, possibilities of different,  _ worse _ side-effects. Ones that could possibly cost you your life. We’re still doing the best we can, but-”

“You can’t, because I would die.” He simply put it.

“And how do you know that?”

“I saw it happen, to that woman-”

“Dr. Rookes?” Dr. Cho’s eyes widened.

“Yeah,”

There was a stunned silence for a moment, then the woman recomposed herself. “What else can you tell me, Peter?”

Peter swallowed, trying to think. Honestly, he didn’t know a whole lot, but… “Coyote isn’t dangerous. He… He did those things- Did them to  _ protect _ me. He just didn’t understand, and the guns, they- The danger, it woke him up. It’s my fault they’re dead.”

“Woke him up… You mean the hibernating state we observed when you first arrived?”

“Yeah…” If Peter wasn’t so exhausted from emotions, he would be crying. Instead his voice wavered and he stuttered uncontrollably as he said the words out loud.

“You seem to have a connection with Coyote,” She pointed out, “We’ve observed this before… On animals, unfortunately, but it provided us with some knowledge.”

“ _ You _ tested on animals?”

“No, that was before I got involved, SHIELD did the testing. I don’t know any names, but I know it was Bruce Banner that stopped it.”

_ Bruce? _

“They forced it upon me,” Coyote spoke, voice a low growl, “I  _ hated _ it.”

Dr. Cho nodded solemnly, letting a respectable silence pass before redirecting the topic, “How deep is the connection, may I ask?”

“Um- We can share memories, I guess, and emotions… And thoughts, and…?”

“Physical pain and weakness,” Coyote finished.

“Interesting…” She remarked, scribbling something down.

“Are you…” Peter hesitated, “Are you going to take him?”

Dr. Cho looked up from what she was writing, a sympathetic smile forming on her face, “I’m sorry, Peter, but I can’t promise you an answer. The situation has changed, but- There can still be unforeseen ill side-effects we have to account for.”

“He would _ never _ kill me,” Peter’s tone tensed in anger.

“I’m sure you believe that,” Was all she could say, moving to give a reassuring touch to his hand, but he flinched away. “Thank you for telling me all this, Peter. Is there anything else?”

“No,” He snapped, turning to look away. He fixed his eyes out the window.

Dr. Cho hesitated before finally standing. “You should be well enough to return to your room after a couple of days, just to be on the safe side.” She said before leaving.

Peter was tense, laying back in the bed as he began fidgeting with his hands. He avoided looking at the creature clinging to his chest as a heavy silence filled the air. Words clawed at the back of his throat as he felt it tighten, fighting to break loose.

“I know you won’t kill me,” He began, voice shaking with conflicted emotions as he tried to speak, “You won’t, because you’re just like me; you’re selfish. You’re  _ selfish _ , and you should have just killed me that first day. It would’ve been a mercy,” Peter forced out a humorless laugh, “You’re only keeping me alive so you don’t end up alone again, because you’re afraid. You  _ lied _ to me, Coyote, you said I wanted to live, but… This doesn’t fucking feel like wanting to be alive.”

“But, whatever, I guess it doesn’t matter. I guess I’m just destined to rot in a hole that dares to disguise itself as a home.” There was a hesitant pause, Peter’s lower lip quivering before he bit it still, “Maybe I could never manage to kill myself because I knew I deserved to suffer, huh?”

Peter let out a long sigh. There was no response from Coyote as he seemed to shrink back.

“What good are you if you can’t get me the hell out of here? I thought I needed you, but I was stupid. I was  _ wrong _ . I just clung to the thought that you maybe cared about me, but of course I was wrong! I want to be pissed, but I don’t know if I can fucking blame you. And that makes it worse.”

“We’re both just fucked up and desperate. God, you should have just killed me! You should have just stayed asleep, or whatever it is you do! I should have just died, fought them, forced them to fight back and give up on me. Like everyone fucking else has,” The last sentence came out in exasperated breathe.

“I’m tired, I’m so fucking tired.” He choked out.  _ God _ , he was so fucking emotional! Why can’t he just cling to one like a normal human being? Why did it keep switching around so fast? Fuck!

“I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone.”

When Peter opened his eyes again after a long moment of squeezing them shut, Coyote had vanished. He didn’t notice the pressure easing off of his chest until now, and a small part of him hurt because of it. But he would never admit that out loud.

His eyes looked down to his now abandoned chest. The bandaging was exposed, his strange hospital gown buttoned down to leave it half-exposed. Peter figured it was left that way since Coyote had been practically shielding his entire body in the first place, so fixing it didn’t exactly matter. The longer he thought about it, the more he could feel the sudden cold of the room creeping into his skin. Peter shuddered, but moved to pull the blanket away and swing his legs over the side of the hospital bed.

Peter’s gaze was immediately drawn to his left, a familiar gift bag sitting on the nightstand. It was Clint’s, containing the gifted console Peter immediately rejected not even a full day ago now. And he would have rejected it again, if he didn’t desperately need a distraction in this moment.

He only thought it over for a few seconds before deciding to give up, reaching for the bag and digging the box out. It was the lite model, the box portraying it a grey color, but when it was pulled out, it was a surprisingly nice lilac color instead. As if the color mattered much. But it was pleasant to look at.

Peter switched it on, logged into his already created profile provided for him, and just started up the first game he saw. 

That’s how he spent the entire rest of the day playing Minecraft, a game he barely remembered from his youth, when the game hadn’t been out for long back then. It was definitely far different from what he remembered, but that wasn’t a bad thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if it may seem inconsistent that peter is supposed to be numb but then has a lot of emotions again, im going by my experience with cptsd. emotions are all at once and fucking suck. they come and go so fast you don't know what to feel at all! you can be numb and so apathetic and still care so much and feel so much and it SUCKS. like youre supposed to be numb! and not feel! but yet you do and its like youre fucking up feeling your own got damn emotions.
> 
> ANYWAYS. yeah. me trying to put all my own personal experience into this fic might make it seem a little weird, possibly inconsistent, not make sense sometimes, but bro cpstd makes no fucking sense! its a wild ride!
> 
> sorry for rambling a little just wanted to explain if its confusing to anyone lmao
> 
> thanks everyone for comments/kudos/bookmarks!!!! :)


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i quickly wrote this chapter and i REALLY like it so!!!  
> also i will probably write a continuation part 2 for this chapter, but i HAD to end it there cause the word count is 2929 and thats just sexy!  
> enjoy! :D
> 
> AND THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 100 KUDOS!!!
> 
> Emetophobia warning for this chapter folks! Nothing incredibly descriptive you know but just in case.  
> and yes this is another personal experience, and one of my own triggers. it was kinda difficult writing this one yall. it made me kinda sick thinking about it

Days had passed, three to be exact. They went by swiftly and rather quietly. Peter had been glued to his Nintendo Switch ever since he started playing it, having built a fantastic cave home since then, filled to the brim with pets. He had to ask for FRIDAY’s help with figuring out how to obtain them. It was mostly dogs and birds, for now. Why did taming the village cats have to be so confusing?

Peter was in the middle of exploring a new cave when Sonja had walked into the Medbay room early that morning, to escort him back to his room. Peter had already changed out of the drab hospital gown into the outfit he was given. It was a nice, comfortable, red long-sleeve shirt and just a basic pair of sweatpants. He continued playing as he walked, occasionally making sure he wasn’t going to trip over himself.

Coyote had been silent the past few days. Peter could feel his constant, observing presence, so he knew he wasn’t hibernating again, but it still made him uneasy. But he didn’t regret saying what he did. He was right.

Peter wasn’t sure if Sonja had attempted talking to him as they walked, he didn’t care to listen. He was completely focused on one thing only; finding diamonds. He plopped onto his bed on his stomach, registering the sound of the door clicking closed as he let out a pained groan. Peter’s chest had healed quite well in the past few days, but it was still pretty sore. At least it didn’t have to be checked regularly anymore.

A notification in the top left hand corner caught his attention, alerting him one of his friends had just gotten online. The name “bastard” did not help clue him in on who it was, but Peter recalled in the note Clint had left that he had added himself, Wanda, and Pietro to his friends list on here, apparently. He just silently hope whoever it was, they wouldn’t notice he was online as well. Suddenly he regretted ever picking up the stupid thing and playing it, but he buried the thought with more Minecraft.

Peter had slowly began speaking with FRIDAY again, mostly just questions about his new favorite game. It was all he wanted to think about. A part of him felt wrong, like he should apologize to the AI for how he acted, but it wasn’t like he could say he regretted it. It was only her tone she had taken towards him that made him feel so unsettled, as if he did something wrong. As if he was in trouble. Settling on that thought for longer than a moment start to make his heart race, but again, he just dug himself deeper into his game.

Peter would ignore it, along with all the other clawing feelings in his chest. He was fucking tired, and he was easily given the best out he’d experienced in a while. So he simply wouldn’t think about it too hard.

Peter only put the game down when he realized it had suddenly grown dark outside. He contemplated leaving his room. A subtle attempt at an apology, maybe, if it could even be called that. Or maybe that was an awful idea, and he would just embarrass himself. All of his ideas seemed to suck nowadays.

It was around the time dinner is typically served, and if he didn’t make his mind up soon, his decision would simply be made for him.

_ Whatever, just do it. Maybe if I go just once they’ll stop nagging me about it. _

He rose to his feet slowly, hesitating as he looked himself up and down. Maybe he should wear different clothes? No, this was fine. No, wait, put on a jacket. Yeah, jacket sounds good. Safe choice.

Peter stalked to his closet, and threw on the same jacket he had worn before. The same one he had been wearing when he tried to stab himself. Thankfully, someone washed it for him and returned it. He liked the jacket before, but now it was kinda personal, you know, after having his own blood spilled on it. Weird.

He slipped on a pair of house shoes before exiting his room, carefully shutting the door closed behind him. He rested there for a moment, straining to hear and being forced to walk forward when he couldn’t make out anything. The unmistakable chatter of the group of people down the hall from the few times he had briefly heard it before. Peter was peeking around the corner of the hall now, right into the common room.

God, maybe this  _ was _ a terrible idea. There was so many of them. And they were all probably pissed at him. He could hear the group clearer as they laughed, play fighting with each other as they threw accusations around about something he didn’t quite catch. A lot of movement was happening, arms and hands gesturing around, plates being lifted, a couple of people walking around the kitchen and throughout the room. Peter could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Yeah, this was a shit idea.

An unexpected touch to his back made him jump with a startled noise, spinning around to a sight he didn’t expect either. A lone, floating, red cloak all on its lonesome. Peter’s first thought was maybe the person holding the cape up was… Invisible? But that didn’t make sense with the way it fell over itself. He was startled once again as a corner of it reached out towards him, only to pull back slightly as if it realized it had scared him in a sorry gesture.

“U-Uhm…” Peter stuttered, not even sure what he was supposed to say, “P-Peter, uh, I’m Peter.”

The Cloak flapped its collar in an apparently excited motion, breezing past him with a gestured motion for Peter to follow. He hesitated before doing so, already noticing the stares sent their way before they even entered the room. Peter stopped at the door frame while the cloak glided happily into the room, settling around a group of people and gesturing wildly.

“Made a new friend, have you?” An unfamiliar male voice spoke with a certain fondness towards the fabric. There wasn’t a hint of danger to be found in his tone, but it made Peter’s skin crawl nonetheless. It made him want to rip his skin off.

Peter’s eyes glanced around the room nervously. The roar of conversation had suddenly died down to a few whispers as they regarded him. It did not help that he almost locked eyes with one of the few faces he had immediately recognized, sitting next to the man that had spoken. None of it helped in the slightest.

“Peter,” A soft voice called to him from his right, drawing his gaze over. It was Wanda, standing from her seat to beckon him over. Relief washed over him at the sight of the more friendly face, but he could feel the stares of the rest of them spearing him as he slowly walked over. Peter hid his shaking hands in his lap underneath the table as he sat down.

The murmur of the room seemed to pick up again after that.

The table Wanda was sitting at consisted of more familiar faces, although briefly. It was only the four of them, now including Peter. He managed not to forget their names, somehow, recognizing Vision sitting across the table to his left, and Pietro sitting closely next to Wanda on his right.

Peter forced himself to breathe through his sudden nausea.

“Peter?” Wanda spoke again, pulling his attention. Peter realized quickly they must have been talking, but he failed to hear a single word.

“Y-Yeah?” His voice was weak.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m ok,” Peter attempted to brush it off, nodding his head as he looked anywhere but their concerned faces.

There was a hesitant pause as Wanda tried to search his face to no avail before continuing, “Rhodey’s making dinner tonight. Tony was  _ supposed _ to be helping, but of course, he’s gotten himself distracted arguing with Sam and Bucky again.”

Peter glanced over his shoulder at the other table, packed full with the rest of the group. He wondered briefly who was who. The fighting was starting up again, fingers being pointed across the table. Peter cleared his throat to try and hide his influx of panic, forcing himself to turn away.

“We sit over here more often than not,” Vision spoke up, “Not as quiet as we would like, but far enough away if the children decide it’s time for another food fight.”

“Hey!” A head poked out of the kitchen, pointing a finger towards the android, “That was  _ one time _ !”

“No,” Vision argued back, “That was  _ three _ times, in fact, Sam.”

“We were a little drunk, ok?” Another voice spoke from the crowded table. Peter recognized it as Tony.

“Children,” Vision reiterated, rolling his eyes as he turned back to his own group.

“You’re technically, like, three years old, Vis,” Pietro chuckled.

Vision raised his eyebrows pointedly, but didn’t need to say another word as Pietro held up his hands in immediate defeat.

It was Wanda’s turn to roll her eyes now.

“We’re waiting for Bruce and Pepper, then dinner will probably be ready. We wait until everyone’s here to start dishing it out.” Wanda averted the topic, turning to speak to Peter once again.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Peter commented plainly.

“Would you mind if Bruce sits with us?” She carefully asked, “I don’t know if he will, but sometimes he likes to join us. I’m asking just in case, really,”

“Oh,”  _ No. No it isn’t. _ “Yeah, that’s ok.”

Peter fell into the background as the group fell into casual conversation. He simply observed, fidgeting with his hands underneath the table as his eyes crossed each of their faces. He wasn’t exactly looking at them, more like staring through them. Right now, he was an observer. And it was comfortable to just fall into himself like that.

Something curling around his hand made him jolt upright, looking down to see the same red fabric once again, wrapping itself around his arm. He was frozen with panic for a moment before he realized it was constricting, the cloak draping itself across Peter’s legs and adjusting so that its engraved clasp was resting in his hand. It was strangely… Comforting, if not just plain weird.

“Levi seems to like you,” Wanda smiled, noticing the Cloak curling itself into Peter’s lap.

“Huh?” Peter had mindlessly began running his thumb across the clasp’s carved surface in his hand.

“Levi,” She repeated, “The Cloak, Stephen’s cloak, I call him Levi, but it goes by many names. He’s trying to help, it seems.”

“Stephen’s?” Peter’s other hand had started brushing across the soft fabric draped over his leg, but both hands stopped in their tracks as he tensed. The Cloak seemed to squeeze back in reassurance.

“Don’t worry, Levi has a reputation for being rather unfaithful.” Wanda laughed, “Stephen won’t be upset.”

“Oh… Ok,” Peter all but whispered, ever so slowly starting to run his hand over the fabric again. Its grip seemed to loosen after that.

Peter briefly eyed the room, searching for the cloak’s apparent owner, and found no one paying him anymore mind. He assumed Stephen must have been the man speaking to it earlier, but Peter wasn’t able to catch his face. And especially not now, with the continued commotion at the table across the room. It felt good knowing eyes weren’t all over him anymore, though.

The Cloak that was half-wrapped around his arm had begun tracing circles atop Peter’s hand with one of its corner, but Peter didn’t take notice to the calming motion. His unwrapped hand had stopped petting it, but his thumb continued to brush over the metal clasp.

Peter was ready to turn back to the table in front of him before he caught a figure entering the room, forcing his attention back. A woman with strawberry blonde hair flowing over her shoulders, a sweet smile spread across her face as she made her way towards the busy table, leaning down to lovingly kiss the sides of two different people’s faces.

Wanda began to explain, “That’s Pepper, CEO of Stark Industries and fianc ée to Tony. I think they’ve been engaged practically forever now, though. Oh, and she’s dating Natasha too, or, uh, Black Widow,” She tapped her chin, “And Tony’s also dating Stephen, just so that’s out there too.”

Peter was nodding, not sure how else to respond, but was about to make a poor attempt anyway before he was thankfully cut off.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to gossip?” Pietro butted in.

“Shut up,” Wanda rolled her eyes, elbowing her brother away, “You know Clint would’ve done the same thing. I’m just trying to help the poor boy be less confused than he needs to be.”

“Oh, so  _ that’s _ where you get your manners from!” Pietro retorted, earning an elbow to his shoulder that made him whine and spit his tongue out like a toddler, “ _ Rude _ ! What would Clint say! And you were the only one who ever confused about it,”

“Clint would say it was well deserved, and  _ no _ , you were confused too, don’t even try to lie about it!” Wanda returned the gesture, sticking out her own tongue at her brother.

Vision was leaning against the table now, holding his head in his hands. Peter couldn’t agree more.

“It’s fine, I get it, thank you, Wanda,” Peter broke in before Pietro could bite back, earning a smile from Wanda.

“Of course, Peter,”

It wasn’t long after that that Bruce joined the room, completing the group. Thankfully, the man didn’t decide to sit with them, sitting instead at the kitchen island. Peter wasn’t paying attention anymore as people gathered in the kitchen to fill their plates, deciding he would wait to grab his own after everyone else got their own. Peter was running his hands along the Cloak again, who was swaying happily over his legs. It didn’t seem to mind being curled up in Peter’s lap and pet.

Peter was staring intently into his own lap when the group’s return jolted him upright. Peter had insisted on hanging back and waiting his turn. And now he was glad, as his eyes settled on their plates of food. The nausea came in a sudden, strong wave the threatened to immediately take over, but he forced it back down his throat. Peter had to tear his eyes away, now staring wide-eyed at the floor instead. 

The Cloak immediately took notice, tightening its grip and adjusting itself to reach and gently rub at his shoulder. The gesture would have been  _ insufferable _ if it came from a human. It would have probably sent him over the edge there and then.

Peter could even feel Coyote’s concern rising in the back of his mind, but it was overridden with hesitance. He could feel the slightest tug of something against his other wrist, but couldn’t move his eyes to look.

The smell was registering in his mind now, and it made it  _ so much worse _ . He had to hold the urge to gag back against his throat. Peter could only hear the concerned voices of the people around him as background noise.

The Cloak wrapped nearly completely around his one arm now practically dragged him to his feet and out of the room. Peter let it guide him, only feeling the bile rising in his throat as he clasped his other hand around his mouth. He suddenly found himself kneeling over a toilet, letting his insides spill out into as the Cloak slowly rubbed his back.

_ Idiot. You fucking idiot! Difficult! God, you’re so fucking difficult! You’re so picky! It’s food! It’s just food! They hate you even more now! _

It took a few dry heaves before Peter finally fell back, sitting against the bathroom wall. Tears were falling down his face, but he didn’t remember starting to cry. It wasn’t a sob, only silent tears falling in streaks as he sat there.

_ It’s food. Just food. God, you’re so fucking weak! _

The Cloak had already began cleaning up, floating itself around carefully. It flushed the toilet, carefully cleaned up a few spots that made it to the floor, and was now reaching out a wet rag to wipe the edges of Peter’s mouth.

Peter looked up at it in confusion as it gently took care of him. Why was it always an android, or alien, or sentient object that seemed to care about him the most? Why was he just blindly accepting its help like this? He  _ hated _ people helping him out of pity. How was this any different?

Something squeezed against Peter’s hand, making him glance down. It was intertwined with thick black strands, reaching through his fingers, stretching across his palm, and twisting around his wrist with a comforting squeeze.

Peter let out a long sigh. The Cloak was rubbing up and down his arm again in a slow motion, almost sinking down completely to Peter’s level.

“I’m sorry,” Peter apologized in a whisper. Both to the sentient cape and his alien friend.

The Cloak was immediately shaking its collar in a “No.”

“Sorry,” Peter was quick to apologize again and winced as he did so, but attempted to quickly recover, “Uhm, Thanks, I-I guess.”

The Cloak was nodding now, raising its edges as if to smile.

Peter only managed a forced one in return.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh boy i hope this chapter makes SENSE!! hope yall enjoy. i struggled with this one lmao.  
> next chapter will have some attempted deserved fluff i swear

Peter sat there, slumped against the bathroom wall, head resting against his knees that he held tucked against himself. The Cloak - or Levi, as Wanda would call it - continued to hover over him in concern. He was grateful for its apparent kindness, but it was beginning to drag on him as it lingered there. The dread was clawing its way back to the surface, and Peter wanted to snap. But instead, a new rush of tears stung at the back of his eyes. Tears fueled by anger towards himself.

Peter was angry at himself, acting like such a brat, being so  _ disrespectful _ . He ran from the room without saying a damn word, and puked his guts out just at the sight of the man’s - Rhodey’s? - cooking. All because Peter couldn’t control himself. Couldn’t be better that what he is. An ill-mannered, emotional, fucked up kid with memories he couldn’t exactly remember, but plagued him all the same. Memories that forced bile into his throat at the sight of fucking  _ spaghetti _ . How weak was that?

“ _ Stop _ ,” Peter hissed.

Coyote had been slowly advancing up his arm, squeezing him in reassurance. And it was reassuring, but Peter didn’t want it to be. He didn’t _ want _ to feel better, he wanted to wallow. It’s what he felt he deserved for acting as he did.

The symbiote stopped in its tracks, but remained blanketed over Peter’s shoulder. It was warm, and Peter hated it. He wanted to rip him off of his arm in his anger, but he didn’t move to. Instead it made his silent tears turn into a loud, frustrated whine.

_ YOU’RE SO DIFFICULT. _

That’s all Peter knew he would ever be, difficult. The kind of difficult that makes people mad at you, yell at you, hit you. The kind of difficult the would drive everyone away, because who would care to understand? To take the time to learn about you, your intricacies, the way you simply function in your “difficult” manner? No one. It only ever made them angry at you, because you were  _ too difficult _ .

_ TALKING TO YOU IS LIKE PULLING TEETH! _

A phrase that was yelled at Peter often. A phrase that made  _ him _ want to pull out  _ his _ teeth. Just another phrase, proving how difficult, how annoying, how much of a  _ burden _ Peter is. Talking to him is like pulling teeth, because it’s hard to find the right words to say. Words that won’t piss the other person off and make them upset with you. And it seemed like he never could find the right ones.

Peter could barely breathe through his thick sobs, holding his hand over his mouth to muffle them. Peter hadn’t even noticed the Cloak had exited the hallway bathroom, leaving him by himself. He was too lost in his own, self-deprecating thoughts, eyes screwed shut in an attempt to somehow slow the tears. It didn’t work.

His mind continued to scream, swiftly cycling through all the possible emotions in the moment. It was tiring, so tiring. Peter was tired of it, of everything. He just wanted to leave, to  _ go home _ .

But he was only fooling himself. What  _ home _ was there to go back to? The city streets, where he was forced to steal just to eat and to have the basic necessities of life? The disgusting sewer, full of disease in the moldy, damp dark? That house, the one of his nightmares, the one that holds the source to why Peter is exactly the way he is? The reason he’s so fucked up, a barely functioning human being, if he could even be  _ called _ a human at this point. He didn’t feel like one.

Peter barely belonged in this reality alone, he didn’t  _ have  _ a home. He didn’t have a place where he belonged. Not in the streets, not in a house, not in this compound, not in this reality, not in this Multiverse, not in the mere  _ concept of existence _ , did he belong. What was the point of fighting if you had nowhere to run back to, and no reason to exist in the first place? Did it really matter?

No. The answer was no, nothing mattered. So why care at all anymore, then?

Peter could hear approaching footsteps outside the cracked bathroom door. Just one set of them, but they were conversing in a hushed tone. They stopped just outside the door, Peter could see them through the reflection in the mirror before it was cautiously, slowly pressed open.

It was Wanda, standing in the doorway with Levi floating at her side, a corner wrapped around her wrist. Her face was covered with concern, but she didn’t approach. Instead, she slowly crouched down into a sitting position where she had stood, matching his level. Levi seemed to be unsure what to do, floating around just behind her.

Peter would had the slightest urge to force himself to stand and brush himself off as she entered, but he didn’t bother. It didn’t matter, right? They all knew what a miserable person was, this wasn’t a surprising position to find him in, not in the slightest. He met her worried expression with a blank face. The tears were still damp, but his emotions had been drained. He didn’t want to care anymore, anyway, so it was welcomed.

He was waiting for her to speak first, but it didn’t seem Wanda has the intention to. Peter didn’t intend to either. He didn’t want to talk, and he didn’t want the company. They didn’t have to keep pretending to care about him.

“You can go.” Peter finally broke the silence, as it stubbornly stretched on.

“I know,” Wanda’s tone was even, calm. Her expression was relaxing, but the glint of worry in her eyes remained. “Do you want me to?”

Peter scoffed, “Would you actually listen if I said yes?”

“Yes, I would.”

Another stretch of silence. He suddenly wasn’t so sure if he wanted her to. It took him a while to say his next words, as if he had to yank them out of his throat, “You don’t have to keep pretending to care.”

Wanda cocked her head, “Why would I pretend that, Peter?”

Again, it took him a moment to compile the words and spit them out, “There’s better things to worry about than, you’re the Avengers.” He said it as if it were obvious.

“What does that have to do with it?”

“You’re  _ busy _ , you don’t have the time to deal with someone like me. You’re _ forced _ to deal with me, because I’m a  _ prisoner _ . It’s ok to drop the act, it’s nothing personal, I get it. I’m a menace.” He snapped out.

Wanda frowned, “You’re not a prisoner-”

“ _ Yes _ ! I am! I have a god damn  _ babysitter _ that’s always on my ass, I’m being  _ forced _ to stay here because you think I’m some fucking weapon. I can’t even be let outside for some  _ god damn air _ ! Why even bother  _ saving _ me if I’m such a burden, then? To  _ torture  _ me? Should’ve let me bleed out and die, would’ve saved us all the trouble.”

Her expression softened, “Peter, you never asked to go outside, I’m sure someone could’ve gone with-”

“Oh, because that’s so much better, huh? Being  _ escorted _ around? Because I’m  _ dangerous _ ? A  _ threat _ ?” Peter’s anger was stirring back awake, eyes narrowing as he stared Wanda down in his fury. He was _ tired  _ of it.

Wanda didn’t know what to say to that. There wasn’t exactly anything she  _ could _ say.

“I’m- I’m just so tired of people trying to  _ care _ . You  _ don’t _ care. You care about  _ yourselves _ , treating me so carefully because I could what?  _ Hurt _ you? You’re the fucking  _ Avengers _ for christ’s sake! I’m not an idiot!”

“ _ Peter _ ,” Her tone turned rigid, eyes narrowing in the slightest, “We don’t want  _ you _ to hurt  _ yourself _ . And I’m sorry- I’m sorry, because I know how overwhelming this all is, but I _ promise _ we actually care. It isn’t some act, even if you can’t believe that right now.”

Wanda’s face was turning red, as if she was on the verge of tears, “Peter, I-” She wiped at her eyes, trying to keep her composure, “I can’t begin to understand what’s going on, Peter, but _you_ _matter_ , ok? So _what_ , we’re the Avengers? What _heroes_ would we be if we weren’t able to show some compassion? And there’s no standards you’re forced to meet to be deserving of it.”

Peter felt a pang of guilt seeing Wanda so close to tears. He didn’t mean to make her upset. Just adding to the list of all the shit he’s done wrong, huh? 

“Well, it’s kinda late to be worrying about me hurting myself, huh?” His tone fell flat, rather than snapping. Peter let out a struggled sigh, “I’m just- Treated so carefully, in such a stupidly conflicting way. Like I’m an emotional toddler that could have their next breakdown any second, which is  _ true _ , I guess, and also like I’m some huge threat to mankind. Like I’ll snap, and hurt people, or  _ Coyote _ will. God, he’s-”

Peter shook his head, cutting himself off, “When I… hurt myself, I wanted to leave. I wanted to run away, I was  _ scared _ . But where would I even go? I don’t have a  _ home _ . I don’t  _ belong  _ anywhere! And I’m just… Tired.  _ So _ tired, I’m so tired of being so  _ afraid  _ all the time. I just… God, I want to be treated like a _ human being _ for once, not a  _ threat _ , or a  _ baby _ .”

Wanda nodded along as he spoke, listening to and contemplating his every word. A gentle smile crossed her face, and she wanted to reach out to him, but she refrained. “You’re  _ not _ a threat, Peter. You’re a kid, and you didn’t ask for any of this to happen to you, but you’re  _ safe _ now. And you  _ don’t _ have to be treated this way. I can talk with them, Peter, if you’d like me to. I can help change this.”

Peter shrugged, as if he was unsure all of a sudden. He wasn’t one to ask for help, he was more the type to just shrug things off, let them slide. But that probably wouldn’t work, after spilling out his words like that.

“They…” Peter hesitated, digging his face in between his arms, “They think he’ll  _ kill _ me.”

“Who will, Peter?”

“Coyote, but he- He would _ never  _ let that happen. He’s not a monster, I  _ swear _ , he never meant to hurt anyone! He just wanted to protect me, and he didn’t know any better...” Peter pleaded, feeling the slightest squeeze on his shoulder, where Coyote rested underneath his jacket.

“I believe you.”

Peter blinked in surprise, looking back up. “What?”

Another soft smile pulled at Wanda’s lips, “I believe you, Peter. I’m glad he seems to care about you so much.”

“Oh…” Peter didn’t know what to say to that. Should he say “thank you?”

“Are you feeling better?” She asked, moving her legs as she was ready to stand back up. Levi was still sashaying at her back in silent concern.

“Yeah… I guess so.” He stood to his feet as she did, awkwardly brushing himself off. Wanda was still looking at him expectantly.

“How do you feel about joining me for dinner, back at my suite? Salad sound good?”

Peter was blinking again. He’d pretty much forgotten about food altogether, but he would be lying if he said a salad didn’t sound good right now. Something that  _ wouldn’t _ make him sick. Or maybe it was the mere, kind invitation that sounded good. Both, perhaps?

But there an entire crowd of people standing in their way to the elevators. A crowd of people Peter really didn’t want to see him after his sudden, rude exit.

“U-Uhm… Sure?” He stuttered, “What about… The elevators, though?”

“There’s a stairwell down the hall,” Wanda explained simply, pointing down the hallway in the opposite direction of the rest of the group. She winked, “Fire hazards and all, you know?”

“Right,” Peter nodded.

Wanda stepped out from the doorway, gesturing with a hand for him to follow. Levi trailed behind them as they began walking down the hall, making her smirk. “It’s ok to go back to Strange now, Levi. Peter’s gonna be ok. Thank you for taking care of him.”

The Cloak shook its collars in an insistent manner. Wanda rolled her eyes and pointed at it as she spoke again. “Fine, but  _ I’m _ not to be blamed if Stephen needs you and you aren’t there, you got that?”

It nodded in understanding before closing the gap between them, lingering at Peter’s side. It reached out a corner of its fabric to him, which Peter carefully eyed for a moment before realizing what it was doing. Levi wanted to hold hands. 

Peter cautiously complied.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god its almost been a whole MONTH since ive updated? im so sorry. especially since i really Hate this chapter, but im gonna post it anyway just so i can move past it.  
> i hope the suffering im putting tony through makes the tiniest bit of sense and im SO sorry!! in this universe hes likes. Barely attempted getting any help for his shit. at all. he bottles it right up. so he's Not handling any of this well! he's nothing but Guilt my dudes!  
> i suppose in this timeline ultron didn't happen Too long ago? Peter is just older here, 17/18 instead of like 15/16 in mcu canon, but its not years later you feel? he's just born a few years earlier.
> 
> ANYWAYS the next chapter is already in the works.... so hopefully i wont take as long! im just a baby amateur writer... i write as i go. No planning in this bitch. we get to the end however the fuck my hands decide we get there. and what is the end? God if i fucking know. But we're getting there. Maybe
> 
> also i fixed the fic to say gen instead of multi for relationships! (finally lmao)

Tony Stark was selfish.

It always had to be about him, didn’t it? Even in his guilt, it still had to be about me, me,  _ me _ ! So of course he would just bottle that shit right up! Why would he openly admit how much of an asshole he was? Why would he give the people he loved more reason to leave? And even that in itself is  _ selfish _ . It was lying to keep the last people he had around so he wouldn’t be left by himself. He just couldn’t help it, could he?

Tony was the reason the creature had been in  _ his _ lab, his absolute recklessness lead to its escape, to the death of one of his workers, to ruining an innocent kid’s life, to killing three police officers. Tony was the reason this teenager’s life was being ruined right before them. Tony made the poor kid have a fucking  _ panic attack _ after they’d been here only a few days! Tony was the reason for all this stress being forced on the boy, and it was  _ his fault _ the kid tried to take his own damn life right in front of him!

And it was probably somehow his doing as well when the kid up and left the room out of nowhere, lead by Stephen’s Cloak off to who knows where. His fault, his fault,  _ his fault _ . All about  _ him _ , all about  _ Tony _ ! It was disgusting, and he hated himself for it. There was nothing no one could say to him that would convince him otherwise, because it was _ true _ , and everyone knew it.

Tony wanted so badly to help the poor kid. Peter didn’t do anything to deserve this, everything that’s happened to him the last few weeks. He was making this poor, clearly traumatized kid’s life _ worse _ , and he had no idea what to do about it.

Guilt upon guilt piling on top of him. Tony was hurting a  _ child _ , and he was making all of it about  _ himself _ , because he couldn’t change who he’s always been. A selfish bastard that’s never known how to care about another human being in his life, and makes everything worse in trying.

And it’s eating him alive as he sat there at the now silent dinner table, everyone’s eyes fixed on the doorway Peter had just fled through. His body tensed, fist anxiously flexing where it sat on his lap. There was a tense moment of silence before Wanda stood to follow after him. It made another wave of self-hatred wash over him, that  _ he _ wasn’t the one acting.

_ It wouldn’t have helped, anyway. _

Tony’s nails were beginning to dig into the palm of his fisted hand as his eyes connected with Steve’s across the table. He hated that the other man seemed to know exactly what he was thinking, how his mind was turning this into all about himself. Tony wished the ground would swallow him whole.

-

Peter was still baffled by the absolute weirdness of being taken care of by a living cloak, as well as the feeling of holding hands with it as it led him up the stairwell. And the fact it had previously known  _ exactly _ what to do, curling itself around his arm tightly but not _ too _ tight, letting him mess with its clasps to calm him down. And it knew exactly how to deal with a puking, sick mess of a human being…  _ Jeez _ , what kind of experience did the Cloak have?

“Here we are,” Wanda said cheerily, coming to a stop at one of the higher landings. She held the door open for Peter, who hesitated before Levi gently nudged him forward. They stepped into a short hallway lined with doors, and Peter could see it opening into a large room at the end of it. 

“These are the bedrooms,” Wanda explained, before pointing each one out, “That one’s mine, the one over there is Pietro’s, the one right next to us is Vision’s, and that one at the end of the hall is just a guest room. Clint stays there sometimes, but he isn’t here at the moment.”

Peter just nodded along to show he was listening, noticing Wanda’s door was cracked open as they walked past, but didn’t want to peek through. He half-expected to see the other two to be in the living room as they rounded the corner before remembering.

It was a spacious area, and rather tidy except for the seating area around the TV. Blankets and pillows were scattered all over the couch and chairs, some even laying across the floor in front of the screen. Peter could see an array of movies, and what looked to be games, lined up next to each other neatly along a bookshelf beside the TV.

Peter turned to hear an audible sigh from Wanda across the room, where she was walking into the connected kitchen, where she was pulling out their bowls and the ingredients for their salads. “Yeah, sorry, we just leave that area like that. No point in cleaning it up when it’ll end up the same way again, you know?”

“Oh,” Peter mumbled, “Do you-”

He started to speak before he was cut off, the jingling of a bell approaching them from the hallway, accompanied by short, happy trills from a small animal. Peter paused to watch a fluffy, long-haired, cream colored cat hurriedly make its way past him, tail held high as it made its way straight towards the kitchen.

“Hi!” Wanda called to the animal in a sudden, shrill tone. She leaned down to pick them up, the cat happily purring into her chest as she kissed the side of its face. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

Peter shook his head, forgetting what he had even wanted to say at the unexpected entrance of the cute kitty, “Nothing.”

Wanda stared at him a moment longer, glancing between him and the Cloak that left Peter’s side, now moving around the TV with something in its grasp. “Ok, well,” She smiled, looking back at the cat in her grasp, “Peter, I’d like you to meet Applejack!” 

“Applejack?”

“Mhm,” Wanda hummed, “She’s a rescue, Clint brought her home a few years ago from the shelter. I keep her with me so Tony doesn’t complain about her apparently  _ ruining _ the common room’s couches.” She rolled her eyes.

“That’s… sweet?” Peter said awkwardly, “So… You didn’t name her?”

“Nope, why? Something wrong with her name?”

“No, no!” He quickly tried to amend, “Just, uh, unusual name, I guess?”

_ Didn’t expect one of the Avenger’s pets to be named after a kid’s show, more like it... _

“Maybe, but I think it suits her! I even watched the show when I figured out where it’s from, it’s pretty cute.” Wanda’s smile turned a little bashful.

Peter nodded thoughtfully. He couldn’t remember what exactly he’d seen of it, but he did remember he _ had _ seen it. That was practically a whole different life ago now. One he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to recognize as once being his.

“You want to hold her?” Wanda had stepped forward, gesturing her arms forward to hand Applejack over.

Peter shook his head, taking a step backward. The cat seemed sweet enough, but he was kinda scared of getting clawed. Especially with Coyote still shifting along his arm underneath his jacket. He really didn’t want to drop the animal, even if it wouldn’t hurt it, being a cat and all.

Wanda just hummed, turning to place Applejack on the back of a couch where the cat promptly sprawled out comfortably.

Peter awkwardly lingered where he stood, watching Wanda disappear back into the kitchen before she caught his eye.

“Why don’t you sit down? I’ll bring you your food when it’s ready.”

_ Oh, right. _ Peter blinked, and moved to sit in the corner of the couch, shifting the pillows and blankets around.

The Cloak floated over from where it had been apparently perusing the shelves of movies, carrying with it a handful of them which it placed in Peter’s lap. It tapped the top of the pile lightly, indicating Peter to pick one of them.

“Uhm...” Peter eyed the selection of movies handed to him, suddenly overwhelmed by the choice. The Cloak floated nearby, waiting patiently for an answer. It only made him feel rushed.

All of the movies the Cloak had brought to him were various animated, family friendly movies. Disney, Pixar, Dreamworks, Studio Ghibli… Peter’s eyes fell on one in particular,  _ Spirited Away _ . Distant memories tried to fight their way to the surface in the back of his mind. It felt strange and muddled, an unpleasant, confusing feeling that he couldn’t figure out.

( _ Not that one. _ ) Coyote suddenly spoke, shooting out from underneath Peter’s jacket arm to toss the movie to the side in such a quick motion it was like watching a snake strike. It took Peter a second to register what had just happened before his eyebrows furrowed.

“ _ Hey _ !” Peter hissed under his breath.

( _ It was harmful. _ )

“That doesn’t mean you can _ throw it! _ ”

( _ But it was bad for you? _ )

“Just-” Peter cut himself off with a disgruntled groan. The Cloak continued hovering next to him, looking at him with a cocked collar in confusion, making Peter blink in sudden realization.

“What’s wrong?” Wanda was looking up from where she stood behind the counter in the kitchen.

“Nothing, sorry,” He apologized quickly, looking back at the movies in his lap. Coyote had grabbed the movie from where he had tossed it and stretched to place it on the table across from them, sitting it with the cover down.

( _ Here, pick this one. You like this one, right? _ ) Coyote was picking up a different movie from the pile, holding it up to show Peter only briefly. There wasn’t a need for more confirmation as he passed it onto the Cloak with his little slimy hands.

“It’s rude to read my mind like that, you know,” Peter grumbled to himself as the Cloak moved to put the movie on, skipping through the ads before getting to the main menu.

( _ How is it rude if I was only helping? _ )

“I don’t know, I just- It’s weird, I don’t like it, ok?” He whispered, moving to cover the sound of his voice as he readjusted his position on the couch.

( _ You didn’t have a problem with it before. _ )

“I was  _ barely alive _ before!” Peter snapped, “Ugh, just go back to  _ not _ talking.”

He waited for a response that didn’t come, making him relax from the sudden tension in his shoulders. The opening scene of  _ How To Train Your Dragon _ was playing on the TV now. The Cloak had left to let it play, joining Wanda in the kitchen for assistance.

Right, dinner. Food. Eating in front of other people. Shit. Peter had been too busy freaking out and puking up his guts to realize what Wanda’s offer entailed. He had only joined the Avengers for dinner to seem  _ polite _ , he didn’t exactly plan on eating all that much.

( _ What’s so wrong with eating in front of others, Peter? _ )

“I told you to  _ shut up _ ,” Peter hissed. Coyote was starting to get on his nerves, and he wasn’t about to answer that question.

“Hungry?” Wanda’s voice brought him back, watching her walk across the room carrying two, full bowls of salad his way. The Cloak was right behind her, carrying glasses filled with ice and different bottles of soda. “Wasn’t sure what you wanted to drink, so…” She explained, setting the bowls down on the table in front of the sofa.

“Oh, uh, that’s alright.” Peter carefully watched as Wanda took a seat on the other side of the couch, pouring herself a drink of Dr. Pepper in her glass. Maybe he could just drink his way to being full instead of having to eat? Peter reached for the bottle of Sprite and filled his glass.

“This is a good movie, haven’t watched it in a while. Pietro usually makes us watch the anime movies.” Wanda made idle conversation, taking a bite of her salad that she held in her lap.

“Yeah, I haven’t either,” Peter commented, sipping on his drink. He placed the bowl to his side against the armrest of the couch, but refrained from eating.

They sat in silence for a while after that, watching the movie as Wanda ate and Peter drank. He poked at the salad occasionally, noting that the lettuce would get soggy and gross after a while if he didn’t eat it. Then it would go to waste.  _ Ugh. _

It was nearly halfway through the movie before he finally forced himself to  _ try _ and eat. Letting the salad Wanda had made  _ just for him _ go to waste would be disrespectful, and he’d done enough of  _ that _ today.

He snuck in a few bites, cautiously watching in the corner of his eye to make sure Wanda had been distracted each time. Carefully taking bites when she was, or taking another bite when she wasn’t paying him any attention while taking a drink. It really made him wish he wasn’t such a weirdo.

Wanda didn’t seem to take notice, and if she did, she didn’t say anything about it. Peter wasn’t even sure how he would even explain it if she asked.

Peter hadn’t even managed to eat half the bowl by the time the movie was over, but he decided he didn’t want to eat anymore, even if it had been good. Having to sneak bites (even if he didn’t manage to be all that sneaky) was stressful and exhausting, so he followed Wanda as she took her bowl back to the kitchen. She didn’t make a comment on how little he had eaten. He  _ did _ just puke not long ago, so it wasn’t all that strange.

Pietro and Vision walked in the door as Peter was helping Wanda clean up. The Cloak floated are them as they moved.

“Hey,” Pietro greeted as he walked in, pausing in his steps. He hesitated as if he wanted to walk closer. Was that because of Peter? “You watched a movie? Without  _ us _ ?” Pietro said in mock offense, looking over to the TV that was back on the movie main menu screen.

“Yeah, finally got to watch something other than  _ Ponyo _ for the millionth time, can you _ believe _ ?” Wanda teased with a smirk.

“ _ Excuse _ you, Ponyo is a masterpiece! How can you not like Ponyo?”

“I have to agree with Wanda, even I have grown tired of watching the same movie.” Vision spoke, walking farther into the room.

“Guess we need to find some new movies, then.” Wanda chuckled.

Peter felt awkward just standing there, listening to them talk so casually to each other. He felt nearly invisible, like he didn’t belong. He wasn’t a person standing there, more like a camera watching everything happen.

“Maybe we should find a new genre of movie to watch?” Vision offered.

“What’s wrong with what we have? They’re classics!” Pietro scoffed.

“They’re basically all  _ Disney _ movies, Pietro,” Wanda rolled her eyes.

“And what’s wrong with Disney?” Pietro folded his arms.

“Clint really is a bad influence on you.” Wanda commented sarcastically.

“How are you feeling, Peter?” Vision ignored the other two as they bickered, turning to face Peter, who tensed at the attention.

“Oh, um, I’m ok. Kinda tired.” Peter fumbled, picking at his jacket nervously as he averted eye contact with the android. That wasn’t true, he wasn’t tired at all, he just  _ really _ wanted to get out of this situation. Wanda herself was fine, he could handle that, but Pietro and Vision? No offense, but it just felt far too uncomfortable for him to hang around. And the way he was spacing out… Peter didn’t like it.

The Cloak floated around the kitchen behind him, drawing a little closer.

“You can head back to your room if you want, Peter. You think you can get back ok?” Wanda turned to ask.

“Yeah, I think I remember, but… You won’t come with me?” Peter felt weird asking. It wasn’t that he wanted her to, he would be fine on his own, but it was just unexpected. He was only ever left alone if he was in his room or simply walking around the floor he was on, which was practically  _ never _ .

“If you want, I can.” Wanda offered, stepping away from the sink where she had been taking care of the dishes.

“No, that’s ok, I just mean- Thanks, I guess.” He cut himself off awkwardly.  _ Awkward awkward awkward! God you’re so awkward! Everyone in this room is cringing right now!! _

“No problem, Peter,” She smiled, “Feel free to come see me anytime, alright?”

“Sure,” Peter nodded, stepping around Pietro and Vision cautiously as he made his way out of the wide room. Pietro waved him off, Vision telling him ‘goodnight’ as he passed by. He reached the end of the hallway when he turned, feeling a presence following him.

“You don’t have to follow me,” He froze, seeing the Cloak swaying side to side as it came up behind him. It gestured in a way Peter couldn’t understand. “Um, don’t you have like, a master or something to go back to?” Peter recalled Wanda saying something along those lines.

The Cloak shrugged in response to that. Peter didn’t know how to respond to that.

“Ok, well… I’m ok now? You don’t have to worry about me anymore. I don’t want you to get into trouble because of me or whatever.” Peter opened the door to the stairwell, beginning his way down. The Cloak floated along at his side, gesturing once again. He really wished he understood what it was trying to say.

“Guess I’m not actually allowed to be on my own then, huh?” His tone grew bitter as he realized what was happening. He had _ just _ talked to Wanda about this. He really shouldn’t have gotten so hopeful when she said he could walk back alone.  _ Of course _ he wouldn’t be allowed to walk back on his own!

That seemed to bring the Cloak to a halt, as if in thought. Peter paused in his steps, looking back up where it had stopped as he realized it was no longer at his side.

“What?”

The Cloak floated backwards ever so slightly, gesturing the shoo him off.

“Huh?” Peter squinted in confusion.

( _ He’s letting you go on without him. _ )

“Oh…” Peter blinked, looking downward then up again, “Uhm, thank you…?”

The Cloak nodded and gave its best as a thumbs up - at least that's what it looked like to Peter - before it floated back up the flight of stairs, leaving Peter still slightly confused at what had just happened.

Deciding he didn’t feel like thinking about it too hard, he happily took the opportunity to be on his own for once. Well, as alone as you can get while having a creature attached to you. And being alone meant having too many thoughts and having to the time to reflect on his  _ stupid _ actions of the day.

Despite having the chance to wander about, Peter made his way straight back to his room. He wasn’t tired, but he  _ was _ going to snuggle up into his bed and play some more Minecraft, actively avoiding his overcrowding thoughts before they became too much.

Peter spent the rest of the day laying in bed, playing Minecraft, and listening to soft music he had asked FRIDAY to put on. He eventually dozed off like that, in the middle of mining, waking up the next morning to find he had been blown up by a creeper just before the Switch went into rest mode.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> press F to pay respects for peter
> 
> wanda watches my little pony and her favorite character is applejack bc of her cat fun fact :)  
> she secretly owns a bunch of mlp merch  
> pietro loves studio ghibli!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *dancing* hello everyone heres another update  
> i try so hard to have the characterizations right but also fighting to be like. fuck it this is MY canon. the characters act how I SAY they act. anyways i hope this is Passable  
> the early chapter characterizations of tony and pepper are so cringe im SORRY. please forget they exist. thank you.
> 
> another peter freakout & coyote attempted comfort and protectiveness & MEETING SOMEONE NEW!!  
> and peter still being a gamer...........
> 
> SO sorry my writing styles and little quirks like coyote talking in peters mind has changed around so much in this fic...... obviously im just writing this as i go along. and im figuring it out as i go. like i recently figured how to space out paragraphs in google docs WITHOUT extra spacing and that. Is A Blessing.

Peter kept to himself the next few days, cooped up in his room, busying himself with various distractions. His caretaker had all but disappeared it seemed, to his relief. Wanda had offered to start bringing him his meals, but he declined. Although that didn’t mean he would start showing up at dinner, not after last time.

Instead, it meant he would make his own food at the most random of times, carefully avoiding the others. He continued this until he learned of a vacant guest floor with a well-stocked kitchen only the floor above. Peter began using that instead.

The Cloak would float around, checking up on him almost every day. It would linger around, making Peter worry that whoever it must belong to has to be mad at him for keeping it away. But it showed up, day after day, at Peter’s door or the empty guest suite upstairs. It would bring around movies for him to watch (Peter had now seen all of the Jurassic Park movies because of the Cloak), or games for him to play (It brought him Breath of the Wild a few days ago, which Peter is pretty sure belongs to Pietro), and even once an entire cook book after watching Peter attempt to cook (that one Peter remembers belonging to Wanda). He would have to remember to return all of it, eventually. For now, it all sits laid out across the living room of the guest floor.

Coyote remained quiet, so Peter spent the majority of his time alone. Peter didn’t mind, he was used to it. This was what he wanted all along, some peace and quiet. Right?

Being alone wasn’t as great as Peter remembered it. His new sense of independence felt nice, making his own meals and not having someone constantly down his back, besides the Cloak, if it even  _ counted _ . Which to Peter, no, not really.

Peter found that he no longer enjoyed being alone like he used to. It only gave his awful brain time to eat away at him, which simply made no sense. He was fine, wasn’t he? At least… as fine as he could be, but the point was it wasn’t  _ bad _ here. So why was this happening?

He actually found himself  _ missing _ Wanda, but that was dumb. And childish. Sure, that night hadn’t been all that great, but it wasn’t bad either. Sitting there, watching the movie in comfortable, albeit awkward silence at the start, sneaking bites of his salad occasionally after getting so hungry. It felt… nice. And she had listened to him.

Peter even found himself missing Coyote. The more he thought about it, the more he could understand, he guessed. He had been upset, but now he didn’t know exactly what he felt. Wanda said… She said Coyote seemed to really care about him. He guessed he had to for Peter to still be alive. The symbiote was there, of course, but it was a lot like the Cloak. Just floating around in existence, silent, watching.

He wondered where the Cloak was right now? It usually stopped by around breakfast time, to make sure Peter was eating. It was a kind gesture.

It was an hour past breakfast now, Peter was standing around in the guest suite kitchen. No Cloak in sight. Peter hadn’t begun cooking yet. Breakfast had become somewhat of an activity for them, one that Peter had been looking forward to. They were going to attempt making some extra fluffy pancakes this morning. They had always looked  _ so good _ when Peter had seen them before, and he figured now would be a good time to try them, right?

The refrigerator in the guest suite had a screen on it that Peter figured out how to navigate, with the help of Fri, to bring up the recipe and instructions for how to make them.

He’d been leaning against the counter for a while now, surrounded by the laid out ingredients. Peter had read over the instructions a couple of times now just to kill time, along with pulling out pans and utensils to cook with. Preparing  _ everything _ to start cooking, before he finally grew antsy enough to say anything.

“Fri, where’s Levi?”

“The Cloak of Levitation left early this morning with Doctor Strange.”

_ Oh. _

Levi was gone. Gone without even saying goodbye. Well,  _ however _ a cloak could say goodbye.

“Um, where?” Peter hesitantly asked. _ When will they be back? _

“Doctor Strange returned to the New York Sanctum on an emergency business call.”

“Oh,” He said aloud that time.

Suddenly he didn’t feel all that hungry anymore.

Peter half-heartedly began placing things back into cabinets and cupboards. He rummaged through the fridge, opting for drinking one of the pre-made smoothies stocked in there as his breakfast. He didn’t bother questioning the why or how it was there.

He settled down on the large, comfortable sofa in front of the TV, picking up his gaming console from where he left it on the coffee table earlier. Picking up the remote sitting next to it, he turned on the TV and put it on a random channel.

_ It’s fine, Peter. Just don’t think about it. _

Peter was playing a different game today, a new one he hadn’t tried before that had already been installed; Stardew Valley. It was fun, fun enough to get absorbed into for a couple of hours without realizing.

The  _ ding _ of the elevator and the sliding open doors abruptly pulled him back into reality. His body tensed.  _ Who the hell could be up here? _ Peter tried to force himself to relax.  _ It’s fine. Maybe it’s Wanda, wondering where I went? _

Peter had inadvertently sunk lower into the couch, pulling the throw blanket he had wrapped around himself closer to his face, and turning his game’s volume all the way down. A tall man he didn’t recognize with long, dark hair stepped out of the hallway, wearing a ratty sweater and jeans. And  _ god was he muscled _ . 

_ That is _ not  _ Wanda. _

Coyote tensed just underneath his skin.

But the man hadn’t even seemed to notice Peter’s presence, not even sparing a glance his way. Instead, he walked straight for the kitchen, pulling something out of the fridge before taking a seat at the table there. Peter began tensing as they seemed to just sit in complete silence together.

_ Please don’t know I’m here. Please don’t know I’m here. Please don’t know I’m here.  _

Chest tensing up and breathe feeling like it would die in his throat, Peter was starting to  _ actually fucking panic _ .

The man coughed to clear his throat, and Peter could feel himself die then and there as the stranger started to talk. “Shit, I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m sorry. I, uh, didn’t expect anyone else to be up here, honestly, Friday didn’t warn me. I realized it a little too late, then I just kinda figured it would be awkward to walk back out.”

Silence. Peter couldn’t bring himself to open his mouth. His brain was overwhelmed with  _ oh god he knows I’m here. _

Coyote began to curl over his arm protectively, and in reassurance. ( _ I’m right here. _ )

“It’s Peter, right? I’m sorry I barged in on you, Peter. I honestly didn’t expect you to be here. I, uh…” A hesitant pause, “I usually come up here to be alone, myself. Seems we’ve found the same hideout, huh?”

“Y-Yeah…” Peter forced himself to choke out, wringing his hands together under the blanket.

“Have you eaten yet?”

Peter did not expect that question. And it wasn’t late enough for dinner yet, right? It was still light out! What did he mean had he eaten? Was he talking about breakfast?

He seemed to recognize the silence, “Lunch, I mean,”

“Uhm, n-no,”

Peter had forgotten lunch even was a _ thing _ . Sure, he’d been fed lunch here at the compound, but when it came to feeding himself? He kinda just skipped it, and only kept to breakfast and dinner.

_ Please just leave. _

“I was coming up here to have lunch myself, sandwiches. Want me to make you some? If not, I can go, no big deal.”

_ Yes, please, leave me alone! _

“Sure,” Peter said instead.  _ Fuck. _

“Sure to… Sandwiches?” The man asked to clarify.

“Yeah,”  _ No! _

“Ok,” The man stood from the kitchen table. Peter couldn’t see him he was so far sunken into the couch, but he could hear him opening the refrigerator door and beginning to pull things out. “Ham and swiss sound good?”

“Yes,”  _ You fucking idiot, Peter. _

There was a long quiet after that, the man working on making them up a few sandwiches each. Three each, to be specific. Peter thought it was excessive. He remembered the doctor telling him about his apparent fast metabolism, and having to eat a little more, but he wasn’t about to start doing that. He was enough of a god damn burden, no matter how  _ well off _ they were, and how well stocked they kept their kitchens.

And god, he was  _ not _ about to start eating in front of this man. He was just too much of a weakling to say _ no _ . To just tell him  _ please go away _ .

“The name’s Bucky, by the way,”

“Huh?” Peter was pulled back to reality from where he was staring off.

“Bucky, James Bucky Barnes, that’s my name.” Bucky repeated.

Peter simply nodded in response, though he was sure the man wouldn’t see, so he hummed in some semblance of a reply instead.

He hadn’t noticed the sounds of Bucky rustling around as he made the sandwiches come to a stop, not until he was standing behind the couch, reaching down to hand Peter a plate of his food. Peter nearly jumped right out of his skin at how close he suddenly was. His eyes must have flown wide open in panic, as an apologetic look flashed across Bucky’s face.

“Sorry,” Bucky sat the plate down on the back of the couch before backing away, sitting back down at the kitchen table with his own plate. 

“Um, thanks,” Peter managed to mutter after a minute of recomposing himself. Coyote had crept his way up past his shoulder, reaching around his neck, but careful not to squeeze. Silently standing guard.

He reached up to grab the plate from the top of the couch, but only to place it in his lap to practically stare at.

They sat like that for a while, in complete silence. The faintest sound of chewing driving him nearly insane. It wasn’t as if the man was chewing with an open mouth, he wasn’t, but Peter seemed to hear it all too clear anyway.

“Last week,” Bucky spoke up, “No one was upset you had to leave like that.”

Peter inhaled sharply.  _ God, I don’t want to talk about this. _

“Rhodey just feels bad he didn’t know sooner.”

“Rhodey…?” Peter’s voice was quiet.

“It was his night to make dinner. He was the only one standing in the kitchen, he’s always real strict about not letting anyone else in when he’s cooking.” Bucky explained.

“Oh,” Peter breathed out his words as he tensed, “I’m sorry.”

“No need,” It was barely visible from how Peter was sitting, but he could vaguely see the man shaking his head, “You know, some of us actually can’t eat certain foods, either.”

Peter hesitates, “Really?”

“Yeah,” Bucky shrugged, “Tony can’t eat shawarma, Natasha can’t eat pizza, Steve doesn’t like sandwiches anymore. And I don't care for pasta that much either.”

Peter blinks, staring down at his plate.  _ Captain America can’t eat sandwiches? _

“Well,” Bucky stood from the table, moving to put his plate in the sink. How long had they been sitting there…? It felt like merely a few minutes, and the man was already done eating. Did he eat fast or did Peter just space out _ that _ hard? “I’ll be going. I’m sure Steve is wondering where I’ve gone.”

Bucky actually faced Peter this time, and Peter looked back, if only briefly, “Next time I’ll ask before coming up here. And don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about your secret hideout.”

Peter nodded in response, watching the man leave into the hallway, listening intently to his footsteps and the closing of the elevator before heaving a sigh. He picked up the plate in his lap, moving to put it down on the table instead. He, of course, had lied about being hungry. But he also felt bad about wasting the food. Maybe he would just wrap them up in foil and put them in the fridge for later.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO EVERYONE!!! thank yall for being so patient. a whole damn month since ive updated god DAMN!  
> ive rewritten chapter 20 so many times i. its been hell. and ive just been so lost on what to do with it. but i finally figured it out i believe.  
> this story need an outline so bad. and a rewrite i swear to god. for all of you still sticking around through my dramatic ass cringe first like, 15 or so chapters im so sorry. and yall are so dedicated i love you. im improving as i go i SWEAR!  
> i just suck ass at writing a whole entire story but i WANT to with this so bad. so i AM! im way better at mere concepts.
> 
> ANYWAYS. enjoy this chapter :) hope i can get the next one out soon, since i have an idea where to go after this!

There are moments where Peter ceases to care. Moreso fueled by nihilism than apathy, but they both play a part.

Moments where Peter thinks to himself,  _ What does it matter anymore, really? What am I even trying to prove by isolating myself? Just go out there! _

Peter has been at the compound for more or less a month, and most of that time has been spent in self-isolation. The only moments of socialization being with the doctors, Wanda, that one shitty dinner, and Bucky walking in on him the other day. Oh, and Levi, of course, but can you really call that socialization if it’s with an animated cloak? He isn’t sure.

But the absolute stress of being  _ watched _ and  _ percepted _ kept him frozen in place. For reasons too complicated and confusing to properly explain, Peter felt uncomfortable with being acknowledged as a living human being.

In his years living in the streets (or sewers, more like it,) Peter was used to being ignored. Sure, he was part of the general populace, but never specifically picked out, never truly _ seen _ . The only times he was close to being seen were the incriminating, blurry security footage photos of his covered face plastered across social media, too vague to unmask his identity. Not that they would find anything.

A person’s appearance changes far too much between the age of ten and seventeen. And the person he was, well… Peter can’t allow himself to think about that.

To put is simply, Peter no longer perceived himself as  _ real _ , as a  _ human being _ . Is it considered a delusion? Perhaps. Is Peter aware of this? Yes. Does that change his mind that to him, it’s simply a fact? Not a chance.

That’s just something having to survive on your own, in the nastiest parts of New York does to you. You become inhuman, because what human could possibly  _ live like that _ ?

It was a miracle he never fell ill and died down there, deep in the sewers. It was a connected section of cut off utility tunnels, but it was just as nasty. That’s what made it safe. No one else was stupid enough to go venturing down there.

So, the notion of being noticed was far too unsettling. Aggravating, even, because his body isn’t _right_. He’d go as far to say it didn’t actually belong to him. His body just seems far too insignificant to contain all that he’s been through. All of his trauma is built on top of each other, steadily growing in size until his pathetic body feels it’ll burst, because it _can’t contain_ _it._

Peter feels it would be more appropriate if he was a massive, disgusting, scaly monster, towering over buildings, wounds carved all across his body. Maybe then, everything would feel right. Maybe then, he could be looked at and  _ understood _ .

Maybe that’s all he wants, is to be understood. But Peter’s never been good with words. How can anyone begin to understand someone so frustratingly complicated?

_ The parasite seems to. _

Peter lets out a single, humorless chuckle at that.

The  _ parasite _ , Coyote, was still laying low. Quiet ever since Peter’s pathetic, sloppily attempted stabbing of himself when they had an argument. Except the night with Wanda, throwing a movie out of grasp. And the time he sat on the bathroom floor, puking from the sight and smell of a food he hated.

Peter wasn’t certain how he felt now. More resigned, maybe. He understood why the thing did what it did, and he guessed he couldn’t be mad about it. If they had escaped, Peter would have just gone back to how life was before. And Peter would be lying if he said he wouldn’t miss this, no matter how stressful. It was nice not having to worry about your next meal and having a comfortable bed.

Having someone else inside your body was strange. It was unsettling, knowing Coyote knew _ all _ about him. Some parts were upsetting, and if he was a normal person, he would be _ angry _ Coyote knew those details without his consent. But, Peter wasn’t normal.

If he was normal, the addition of another conscious would be jarring. But for Peter, it meant he wasn’t alone anymore.

Coyote knew it all, and there was no sense of judgement. Only comfort and reassurances when he needed it. There was no need for words, they just  _ knew _ . They understood it all, in a specific way no other person ever could. Hell, they even seemed respectful enough to give him  _ space _ .

Well, as much space as possible when you’re sharing a body.

It’s a different feeling than when Coyote was “hibernating,” as it was called. It was the feeling of something shifting just beneath the skin. Not the kind that could drive you to claw it off, just more of a  _ presence _ . He could sense when they were more in focus to what was going on, and when they drifted further back. Never completely unaware, more like turning away to grant privacy.

When Coyote wasn’t awake, he nearly felt  _ hollow _ , their presence untraceable to a point where it felt they had disappeared completely. It left him feeling heartbreakingly alone.  _ Vulnerable _ .

Funny, because he had always been  _ fine _ on his own. He was always the one to take care of himself, the one to protect himself.

_ Look where that got you. _

But, Peter always did get attached far too fast. Too fast to ever be considered healthy. Another symptom of living the life he has.

And maybe he wasn’t ready to subject himself to a room full of watchful eyes again, but maybe it wouldn’t hurt to go see Wanda. She said he could come up whenever, right? Something along the lines of that. So, it would be fine. He could handle that.

Peter would be a liar if he tried to deny her presence wasn’t at least a little comforting. And right now, he was kinda stressed out of his mind. He was  _ not _ prepared to be snuck up on by a super soldier. And to be quite honest, he hadn’t even slept since then.

Bucky claimed he didn’t mean to and all, but frankly, his words made no difference. And Peter was terrified if he slept, his nightmares would come back. So… he stayed awake all night. Problem solved.

It was probably nearing the middle of the day by now, Peter guessed. He’d missed breakfast, not daring going back to the guest floor, where he usually spent his day. It was fun while it lasted. And as far as Peter knew, Levi hadn’t returned, so there was no point anyway. It kinda started becoming their thing. It felt wrong to make breakfast alone.

Carefully creaking open his door, Peter stepped out into the hallway. He hadn’t bothered to change from the clothes he slept in, but that didn’t matter, it wasn’t like he was wearing straight up  _ pajamas _ . He had fallen asleep wearing a hoodie he had found in the closet and some very comfortable leggings. The hoodie was worn, he could tell, and there was some lettering on it he hadn’t bothered reading before throwing it on. He just wanted something  _ less constricting _ , and nothing else he could find in his gifted wardrobe had been good enough. This hoodie, however, was the  _ perfect _ amount of baggy.

He quietly clicked the door closed behind him, pausing to listen to his surroundings and stare down the hall. He was alone in the hallway, but he could hear the distant shuffle of paper from the common room. As if someone was reading in silence, although the sound of turning pages somehow managed to reach his ears. He shrugged it off, turning the opposite direction to the stairwell.

Peter passed the guest floor on his way, walking up a few more flights before reaching Wanda’s floor. He briefly wondered who else lived on the floors below.

He paused once again as he reached the door, hand stopping halfway in its motion to open it. There were distinct voices from the other side, one he could recognize. But not the other. A male, Peter could distinguish, but not Vision or Pietro.

Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Maybe he should turn back.

-

Tony stood in the kitchen, leaning with his back against the counter. His arms folded, one tucked into his side and the other positioned over it with a finger nervously tapping against his bicep. He was staring off into the distance, gaze lost somewhere where he stared over the bar counter and into the living room.

All of the lights were off, the daylight reaching in from the floor to ceiling windows. The kitchen area itself was dim, found at the back of the spacious room, only reflections of the light able to reach it.

To the side of the living room, table up against the wall, sat his collection of various alcoholic drinks. All sat out in his reach for his convenience. The sunlight caught against the bottles almost beautifully, light reflecting off of the liquid within, tempting him closer.

He was alone. Stephen had left the day previous, receiving a call from Wong that pulled him away from the compound. They hadn’t left on the best of terms. Stephen had tried to carefully bring up Tony’s state of health, and predictably, Tony got defensive and told him off. He was only trying to help, Tony knew, and  _ god _ did he regret arguing about it now.

Pepper, god bless her, tried to stick around for as long as she could. Unlike Tony, she rather cared about keeping Stark Industries afloat. She came and went from the compound, attending meetings and running business as usual back at the tower. She returned some nights, sometimes capable of making it back for dinner, but other times, Pepper was forced to stay in the city.

Tony felt awful. Like he was clinging to his two partners for dear life and draining the life force right out of them in doing so. It was nowhere near healthy, and they deserved far better than that, he knew. He  _ wanted _ to be better. But he was weak, and went back to his same old habits every single time. He shut people out, he dove into his work, he drank, he got angry, and when it finally got too much, he broke apart and cried in their arms.

None of it was healthy for any of the participants.

How long before they realize it and leave?

_ How long before they realize it and leave? _

Stephen and Pepper both deeply hated the bar table. They didn’t even have to say anything, Tony could tell from the way they tended to avoid looking at it directly, or when they viewed it with a look of  _ disappointment _ or  _ disgust _ . Looks that his brain tended to register as being pointed towards him instead, when they likely weren’t.

_ Disgusting. Weak. Hopeless. _

Tony stood in front of it now, staring down at the bottles. They felt miles away from his reach, but he grabbed for the handle of one just fine. He turned it in his hand. It was his most favored bottle of whiskey, almost empty.

Tony was tired of those looks, directed at him or not. He was tired of being  _ disgusting, weak, hopeless _ . He was tired of being a god damn burden of a human being. He was tired of the frustration of  _ why can’t I just be normal? When will this go away? _

He was tired of not being good enough for two of the people he loved the most. It wasn’t that they ever implied so, it was just that Tony _ knew _ . They deserved far better, and god damn if Tony wasn’t going to kick his own ass into gear and  _ try _ .

And what better way to start than this?

Tony flipped the bottle in his hand, before fluidly moving with the motion to smash it directly into the wall in front of him. Glass flew everywhere, scraping against his cheek as they flew past, a few pieces even embedding themselves into his skin. The rest clattered to the floor around his bare feet. The whiskey itself splattered onto his clothes and all over the table.

He blinked, eyes wide, as if he had just come to realize his own thought process and what had just happened. As if he had awoken from a fog. He wasn’t upset though, that had felt  _ great _ .

Tony was most likely going to regret this later, but right now? He just wanted to smash shit.

He repeated the process, picking up the next bottle and smashing it with all the force he could muster against the wall. Not even the cups were safe, breaking far easier as they were thrown at the wall compared to the rather full glass bottles. Some of them took multiple attempts to break, but Tony was determined to do so.

For good measure, after smashing everything sitting atop the table, he forcefully shoved it away from the wall and to the floor. All the while trying to avoid broken glass that littered the floor, and failing.

Tony stood there, staring at the mess he had created. He was breathing heavy, every exhale a huff of air out of his lungs.  _ Man _ , he should’ve done this sooner. This was the best he had possibly ever felt in a while, smashing bottles and ruining his living room.

His clothes were drenched in alcohol, and he smelled like a damn brewery, but his feet carried him to the elevators, leaving a bloody trail of footsteps behind him. To be honest, Tony has been in far worse pain, and for some reason, he couldn’t feel it anyway.

“Hey, Fri?” Tony’s breath was evening out, if only slightly, as he began to speak.

“ _ Yes, boss? _ ”

“Get the cleaning crew up here, would’ya?” A pause, before adding, “And give them a raise,”

“ _ Of course, _ ”

Tony smirked at that.

The elevator doors dinged open before him as he stepped up to them. He trudged inside, the shards of glass crunching against and stabbing farther into the pads of his feet. “Take me to Banner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope the words i write make any sense at all. love yall
> 
> ps peter is a contradicting complicated child that just wants attention and love. yes hes not "alone" anymore and it makes him feel better to have coyote around. yes he can still feel lonely and seek out other peoples attention too. especially since wanda has already shown she cares about him. THATS my reasoning i hope that makes sense????
> 
> i never know if i Do make any sense so! let me know... im always worried about that! and then tend to over explain :')


	21. update

hi guys, i won't be updating this fic anymore.

it's far too dramatic for me now, i wrote at a point where i had no outlet nor help for my problems, so i won't fuel that anymore by continuing this piece i've written.

i will leave it posted, though, for anyone to enjoy :)

there is a good chance i'll revisit and rewrite this au again, because i still LOVE it. but it will just be a bit different :)

thank you everyone for all your comments, kudos, bookmarks, and general support for this fic!

see you next time! :)


End file.
